Part 41 (1/2)

Ida laughed, and was afraid that wouldn't do.

When the dance was over, and d.i.c.k was leading Ida to her seat, a surprise awaited him. A boy came forward hastily, and said in a tone blending amazement with gratification, ”Is it possible that this is d.i.c.k Hunter?”

”Frank Whitney!” exclaimed d.i.c.k, clasping his hand cordially. ”How came you here?”

”Just the question I was going to ask you, d.i.c.k. But I'll answer first.

I am spending a few days with some cousins in Thirty-Seventh Street.

They are friends of the Greysons, and were invited here this evening, and I with them. I little dreamed of meeting you here. I must say, d.i.c.k, you seem quite at home.”

”Mr. Greyson has been a kind friend of mine,” said d.i.c.k, ”and I've met Ida quite often. But I felt a little nervous about coming to this party.

I was afraid I'd be like a cat in a strange garret.”

”You're a wonderful boy, d.i.c.k. You look as if you had been used to such scenes all your life. I can hardly believe you're the same boy I met in front of the Astor House a little more than a year ago.”

”If I'm changed, it's because of what you said to me then, you and your father. But for those words I might still have been Ragged d.i.c.k.”

”I'm glad to hear you say that, d.i.c.k; but, for all that, a great deal of credit is due to yourself.”

”I've worked hard,” said d.i.c.k, ”because I felt that I had something to work for. When are you going to enter college?”

”I expect to apply for admission in about two months.”

”At Columbia College?”

”Yes.”

”I am glad of that. I shall hope to see you sometimes.”

”You will see me often, d.i.c.k.”

Here the music struck up, and the boys parted. It is unnecessary to speak farther of the events of the evening. d.i.c.k made several other acquaintances, and felt much more at ease than he had antic.i.p.ated. He returned home, feeling that his first party had been a very agreeable one, and that he had on the whole appeared to advantage.

CHAPTER XXII.

MICKY MAGUIRE RETURNS FROM THE ISLAND.

For three months Micky Maguire was not seen in his accustomed haunts.

During his involuntary residence at the Island he often brooded over the treachery of Gilbert, to whom his present misfortune was due. He felt that he had been selfishly left to his fate by his equally guilty confederate. It had certainly been a losing speculation for poor Micky.

He had received but a paltry dollar for his services, and in return he was deprived of his liberty for three months.

The disgrace of being sent to the Island Micky did not feel as d.i.c.k would have done. He had been there too many times to care for that. But he did not like the restraints of the place, and he did like the free and independent life of the streets from which for a time he was debarred.

The result of Micky's brooding was a strong thirst for vengeance upon the author of his misfortunes. He could do nothing at present, but only bide his time.

Meanwhile things went on pretty much as usual at the establishment in Pearl Street. Gilbert liked d.i.c.k no better than he had done. In fact, he disliked him more, but, seeing the friendly relations between d.i.c.k and his employer, found it prudent to treat him well whenever Mr. Rockwell was by. At other times he indulged in sneers and fault-finding, which d.i.c.k turned off good-humoredly, or returned some droll answer, which blunted the edge of the sarcasm, and made the book-keeper chafe with the feeling that he was no match for the boy he hated. d.i.c.k, by faithful attention to his duties, and a ready comprehension of what was required of him, steadily advanced in the good opinion of every one except Gilbert.

”Keep on as you have begun, Richard,” said Mr. Murdock to him, ”and you'll be a member of the firm some time.”