Part 39 (1/2)

”He'd find me a little more 'spectable than when he first saw me,”

thought d.i.c.k.

d.i.c.k had by this time got up to Printing House Square. Standing on Spruce Street, near the ”Tribune” office, was his old enemy, Micky Maguire.

It has already been said that Micky felt a natural enmity towards those in his own condition in life who wore better clothes than himself. For the last nine months, d.i.c.k's neat appearance had excited the ire of the young Philistine. To appear in neat attire and with a clean face Micky felt was a piece of presumption, and an a.s.sumption of superiority on the part of our hero, and he termed it ”tryin' to be a swell.”

Now his astonished eyes rested on d.i.c.k in his ancient attire, which was very similar to his own. It was a moment of triumph to him. He felt that ”pride had had a fall,” and he could not forbear reminding d.i.c.k of it.

”Them's nice clo'es you've got on,” said he, sarcastically, as d.i.c.k came up.

”Yes,” said d.i.c.k, promptly. ”I've been employin' your tailor. If my face was only dirty we'd be taken for twin brothers.”

”So you've give up tryin' to be a swell?”

”Only for this partic'lar occasion,” said d.i.c.k. ”I wanted to make a fas.h.i.+onable call, so I put on my regimentals.”

”I don't b'lieve you've got any better clo'es,” said Micky.

”All right,” said d.i.c.k, ”I won't charge you nothin' for what you believe.”

Here a customer presented himself for Micky, and d.i.c.k went back to his room to change his clothes, before resuming business.

CHAPTER XXV

d.i.c.k WRITES HIS FIRST LETTER

When Fosd.i.c.k reached home in the evening, d.i.c.k displayed his letter with some pride.

”It's a nice letter,” said Fosd.i.c.k, after reading it. ”I should like to know Frank.”

”I'll bet you would,” said d.i.c.k. ”He's a trump.”

”When are you going to answer it?”

”I don't know,” said d.i.c.k, dubiously. ”I never writ a letter.”

”That's no reason why you shouldn't. There's always a first time, you know.”

”I don't know what to say,” said d.i.c.k.

”Get some paper and sit down to it, and you'll find enough to say.

You can do that this evening instead of studying.”

”If you'll look it over afterwards, and s.h.i.+ne it up a little.”

”Yes, if it needs it; but I rather think Frank would like it best just as you wrote it.”

d.i.c.k decided to adopt Fosd.i.c.k's suggestion. He had very serious doubts as to his ability to write a letter. Like a good many other boys, he looked upon it as a very serious job, not reflecting that, after all, letter-writing is nothing but talking upon paper. Still, in spite of his misgivings, he felt that the letter ought to be answered, and he wished Frank to hear from him. After various preparations, he at last got settled down to his task, and, before the evening was over, a letter was written. As the first letter which d.i.c.k had ever produced, and because it was characteristic of him, my readers may like to read it.