Part 29 (2/2)
”All right,” said the clerk, laughing; ”I'll allow it on your next purchase.”
Proceeding to their apartment in Mott Street, Fosd.i.c.k at once tried on his new suit, and it was found to be an excellent fit. d.i.c.k surveyed his new friend with much satisfaction.
”You look like a young gentleman of fortun',” he said, ”and do credit to your governor.”
”I suppose that means you, d.i.c.k,” said Fosd.i.c.k, laughing.
”In course it does.”
”You should say _of_ course,” said Fosd.i.c.k, who, in virtue of his position as d.i.c.k's tutor, ventured to correct his language from time to time.
”How dare you correct your gov'nor?” said d.i.c.k, with comic indignation. ”'I'll cut you off with a s.h.i.+llin', you young dog,' as the Markis says to his nephew in the play at the Old Bowery.”
CHAPTER XIX
FOSd.i.c.k CHANGES HIS BUSINESS
Fosd.i.c.k did not venture to wear his new clothes while engaged in his business. This he felt would have been wasteful extravagance. About ten o'clock in the morning, when business slackened, he went home, and dressing himself went to a hotel where he could see copies of the ”Morning Herald” and ”Sun,” and, noting down the places where a boy was wanted, went on a round of applications. But he found it no easy thing to obtain a place. Swarms of boys seemed to be out of employment, and it was not unusual to find from fifty to a hundred applicants for a single place.
There was another difficulty. It was generally desired that the boy wanted should reside with his parents. When Fosd.i.c.k, on being questioned, revealed the fact of his having no parents, and being a boy of the street, this was generally sufficient of itself to insure a refusal. Merchants were afraid to trust one who had led such a vagabond life. d.i.c.k, who was always ready for an emergency, suggested borrowing a white wig, and pa.s.sing himself off for Fosd.i.c.k's father or grandfather. But Henry thought this might be rather a difficult character for our hero to sustain. After fifty applications and as many failures, Fosd.i.c.k began to get discouraged.
There seemed to be no way out of his present business, for which he felt unfitted.
”I don't know but I shall have to black boots all my life,” he said, one day, despondently, to d.i.c.k.
”Keep a stiff upper lip,” said d.i.c.k. ”By the time you get to be a gray-headed veteran, you may get a chance to run errands for some big firm on the Bowery, which is a very cheerin' reflection.”
So d.i.c.k by his drollery and perpetual good spirits kept up Fosd.i.c.k's courage.
”As for me,” said d.i.c.k, ”I expect by that time to lay up a colossal fortun' out of s.h.i.+nes, and live in princely style on the Avenoo.”
But one morning, Fosd.i.c.k, straying into French's Hotel, discovered the following advertis.e.m.e.nt in the columns of ”The Herald,”--
”WANTED--A smart, capable boy to run errands, and make himself generally useful in a hat and cap store. Salary three dollars a week at first. Inquire at No. -- Broadway, after ten o'clock, A.M.”
He determined to make application, and, as the City Hall clock just then struck the hour indicated, lost no time in proceeding to the store, which was only a few blocks distant from the Astor House.
It was easy to find the store, as from a dozen to twenty boys were already a.s.sembled in front of it. They surveyed each other askance, feeling that they were rivals, and mentally calculating each other's chances.
”There isn't much chance for me,” said Fosd.i.c.k to d.i.c.k, who had accompanied him. ”Look at all these boys. Most of them have good homes, I suppose, and good recommendations, while I have n.o.body to refer to.”
”Go ahead,” said d.i.c.k. ”Your chance is as good as anybody's.”
While this was pa.s.sing between d.i.c.k and his companion, one of the boys, a rather supercilious-looking young gentleman, genteelly dressed, and evidently having a very high opinion of his dress and himself turned suddenly to d.i.c.k, and remarked,--
”I've seen you before.”
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