Part 23 (1/2)

Those who have read ”Ragged d.i.c.k” will remember that he had a very sprightly and engaging daughter of ten years of age, who seemed to have taken an especial fancy to d.i.c.k. Being wealthy, his kindness had been of great service to both boys, inspiring them with self-respect, and encouraging them to persevere in their efforts to raise themselves to a higher position.

The dinner-bell rang just as the boys had finished their discussion, and they went down and took places at the table.

Soon Miss Peyton came sailing in, shaking her ringlets coquettishly. She was proud of these ringlets, and was never tired of trying their fascinations upon gentlemen. But somehow they had not succeeded in winning a husband.

”Good-evening, Mr. Hunter,” said she. ”You look as if you had had good news.”

”Do I?” said d.i.c.k. ”Perhaps you can tell what it is.”

”I know how it came,” said Miss Peyton, significantly.

”Then I hope you won't keep me in suspense any longer than you can help.”

”Perhaps you'd rather I wouldn't mention before company.”

”Never mind,” said d.i.c.k. ”Don't have any regard to my feelin's. They're tough, and can stand a good deal.”

”How do you like the letter G?” asked Miss Peyton, slyly.

”Very much,” said d.i.c.k, ”as long as it behaves itself. What is your favorite letter?”

”Don't think I'm going to tell you, Mr. Hunter. That was a pretty little note, and in a young lady's hand too.”

”Yes,” said d.i.c.k. ”Perhaps you'd like to see it.”

”You wouldn't show it to me on any account, I know.”

”You may see it if you like,” said d.i.c.k.

”May I, really? I should like to very much; but would the young lady like it?”

”I don't think she'd mind. She's written one to my friend Fosd.i.c.k just like it.”

d.i.c.k pa.s.sed the invitation across the table.

”It's very pretty indeed,” said Miss Peyton. ”And is Miss Ida Greyson very handsome?”

”I'm no judge of beauty,” said d.i.c.k.

”So she lives in West Twenty-Fourth Street. Is her father rich?”

”I don't know how rich,” said d.i.c.k; ”but my impression is that his taxes last year were more than mine.”

”I know now what your favorite letters are,” said Miss Peyton. ”They are I. G.”

”I. G. are very well as long as you don't put P. before them,” said d.i.c.k. ”Thank you for another cup of tea, Mrs. Browning.”

”I should think you'd need some tea after such a brilliant effort, Hunter,” said Mr. Clifton, from across the table.

”Yes,” said d.i.c.k. ”I find my brain gets exhausted every now and then by my intellectual efforts. Aint you troubled that way?”