Part 31 (1/2)

”Where do you live, then?”

”In Mott Street.”

Roswell curled his lip when this name was p.r.o.nounced, for Mott Street, as my New York readers know, is in the immediate neighborhood of the Five-Points, and very far from a fas.h.i.+onable locality.

”Have you any testimonials to present?” asked Mr. Henderson, for that was his name.

Fosd.i.c.k hesitated. This was the question which he had foreseen would give him trouble.

But at this moment it happened most opportunely that Mr. Greyson entered the shop with the intention of buying a hat.

”Yes,” said Fosd.i.c.k, promptly; ”I will refer to this gentleman.”

”How do you do, Fosd.i.c.k?” asked Mr. Greyson, noticing him for the first time. ”How do you happen to be here?”

”I am applying for a place, sir,” said Fosd.i.c.k. ”May I refer the gentleman to you?”

”Certainly, I shall be glad to speak a good word for you. Mr.

Henderson, this is a member of my Sunday-school cla.s.s, of whose good qualities and good abilities I can speak confidently.”

”That will be sufficient,” said the shop-keeper, who knew Mr.

Greyson's high character and position. ”He could have no better recommendation. You may come to the store to-morrow morning at half past seven o'clock. The pay will be three dollars a week for the first six months. If I am satisfied with you, I shall then raise it to five dollars.”

The other boys looked disappointed, but none more so than Roswell Crawford. He would have cared less if any one else had obtained the situation; but for a boy who lived in Mott Street to be preferred to him, a gentleman's son, he considered indeed humiliating. In a spirit of petty spite, he was tempted to say,

”He's a boot-black. Ask him if he isn't.”

”He's an honest and intelligent lad,” said Mr. Greyson. ”As for you, young man, I only hope you have one-half his good qualities.”

Roswell Crawford left the store in disgust, and the other unsuccessful applicants with him.

”What luck, Fosd.i.c.k?” asked d.i.c.k, eagerly, as his friend came out of the store.

”I've got the place,” said Fosd.i.c.k, in accents of satisfaction; ”but it was only because Mr. Greyson spoke up for me.”

”He's a trump,” said d.i.c.k, enthusiastically.

The gentleman, so denominated, came out before the boys went away, and spoke with them kindly.

Both d.i.c.k and Henry were highly pleased at the success of the application. The pay would indeed be small, but, expended economically, Fosd.i.c.k thought he could get along on it, receiving his room rent, as before, in return for his services as d.i.c.k's private tutor. d.i.c.k determined, as soon as his education would permit, to follow his companion's example.

”I don't know as you'll be willin' to room with a boot-black,” he said, to Henry, ”now you're goin' into business.”

”I couldn't room with a better friend, d.i.c.k,” said Fosd.i.c.k, affectionately, throwing his arm round our hero. ”When we part, it'll be because you wish it.”

So Fosd.i.c.k entered upon a new career.

CHAPTER XX