Part 4 (2/2)
”All except my own, Johnny. Aint that a good s.h.i.+ne?” and d.i.c.k displayed his boot with something of his old professional pride.
”What you up to now, d.i.c.k? You're dressed like a swell.”
”Oh,” said d.i.c.k, ”I've retired from s.h.i.+nes on a fortun', and embarked my capital in mercantile pursuits. I'm in a store on Pearl Street.”
”What store?”
”Rockwell & Cooper's.”
”How'd you get there?”
”They wanted a partner with a large capital, and so they took me,” said d.i.c.k. ”We're goin' to do a smas.h.i.+n' business. We mean to send off a s.h.i.+p to Europe every day, besides what we send to other places, and expect to make no end of stamps.”
”What's the use of ga.s.sin', d.i.c.k? Tell a feller now.”
”Honor bright, then, Johnny, I've got a place at ten dollars a week, and I'm goin' to be 'spectable. Why don't you turn over a new leaf, and try to get up in the world?”
”I aint lucky, d.i.c.k. I don't half the time make enough to live on. If it wasn't for the Newsboys' Lodgin' House, I don't know what I'd do. I need a new brush and box of blacking, but I aint got money enough to buy one.”
”Then, Johnny, I'll help you this once. Here's fifty cents; I'll give it to you. Now, if you're smart you can make a dollar a day easy, and save up part of it. You ought to be more enterprisin', Johnny. There's a gentleman wants a s.h.i.+ne now.”
[Ill.u.s.tration]
Johnny hitched up his trousers, put the fifty cents in his mouth, having no pocket unprovided with holes, and proffered his services to the gentleman indicated, with success. d.i.c.k left him at work, and kept on his way down Na.s.sau Street.
”A year ago,” he thought, ”I was just like Johnny, dressed in rags, and livin' as I could. If it hadn't been for my meetin' with Frank, I'd been just the same to day, most likely. Now I've got a good place, and some money in the bank, besides 'ristocratic friends who invite me to come and see them. Blessed if I aint afraid I'm dreamin' it all, like the man that dreamed he was in a palace, and woke up to find himself in a pigpen.”
CHAPTER III.
AT THE POST-OFFICE.
The New York Post-Office is built of brick, and was formerly a church.
It is a shabby building, and quite unworthy of so large and important a city. Of course d.i.c.k was quite familiar with its general appearance; but as his correspondence had been very limited, he had never had occasion to ask for letters.
There were several letters in Box 5,670. d.i.c.k secured these, and, turning round to go out, his attention was drawn to a young gentleman of about his own age, who, from his consequential air, appeared to feel his own importance in no slight degree. He recognized him at once as Roswell Crawford, a boy who had applied unsuccessfully for the place which Fosd.i.c.k obtained in Henderson's hat and cap store.
Roswell recognized d.i.c.k at the same time, and perceiving that our hero was well-dressed, concluded to speak to him, though he regarded d.i.c.k as infinitely beneath himself in the social scale, on account of his former employment. He might not have been so condescending, but he was curious to learn what d.i.c.k was about.
”I haven't seen you for some time,” he said, in a patronizing tone.
”No,” said d.i.c.k, ”and I haven't seen you for some time either, which is a very curious coincidence.”
”How's boot-blacking, now?” inquired Roswell, with something of a sneer.
”Tip-top,” said d.i.c.k, not at all disturbed by Roswell's manner. ”I do it wholesale now, and have been obliged to hire a large building on Pearl Street to transact my business in. You see them letters? They're all from wholesale customers.”
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