Part 41 (1/2)
”Whose clothes are they?” asked d.i.c.k.
”They are yours.”
”Mine! Where did they come from?”
”Mr. Rockwell sent out and bought them for you. They are the same size as your wet ones.”
”Is he here now?”
”No. He bought another suit for the little boy, and has gone back to New York. Here's a note he asked me to give you.”
d.i.c.k opened the paper, and read as follows,--
”Please accept this outfit of clothes as the first instalment of a debt which I can never repay. I have asked to have your wet suit dried, when you can reclaim it. Will you oblige me by calling to-morrow at my counting room, No. --, Pearl Street.
”Your friend, ”JAMES ROCKWELL.”
CHAPTER XXVII
CONCLUSION
When d.i.c.k was dressed in his new suit, he surveyed his figure with pardonable complacency. It was the best he had ever worn, and fitted him as well as if it had been made expressly for him.
”He's done the handsome thing,” said d.i.c.k to himself; ”but there wasn't no 'casion for his givin' me these clothes. My lucky stars are s.h.i.+nin' pretty bright now. Jumpin' into the water pays better than s.h.i.+nin' boots; but I don't think I'd like to try it more'n once a week.”
About eleven o'clock the next morning d.i.c.k repaired to Mr.
Rockwell's counting-room on Pearl Street. He found himself in front of a large and handsome warehouse. The counting-room was on the lower floor. Our hero entered, and found Mr. Rockwell sitting at a desk. No sooner did that gentleman see him than he arose, and, advancing, shook d.i.c.k by the hand in the most friendly manner.
”My young friend,” he said, ”you have done me so great service that I wish to be of some service to you in return. Tell me about yourself, and what plans or wishes you have formed for the future.”
d.i.c.k frankly related his past history, and told Mr. Rockwell of his desire to get into a store or counting-room, and of the failure of all his applications thus far. The merchant listened attentively to d.i.c.k's statement, and, when he had finished, placed a sheet of paper before him, and, handing him a pen, said, ”Will you write your name on this piece of paper?”
d.i.c.k wrote in a free, bold hand, the name Richard Hunter. He had very much improved in his penmans.h.i.+p, as has already been mentioned, and now had no cause to be ashamed of it.
Mr. Rockwell surveyed it approvingly.
”How would you like to enter my counting-room as clerk, Richard?” he asked.
d.i.c.k was about to say ”Bully,” when he recollected himself, and answered, ”Very much.”
”I suppose you know something of arithmetic, do you not?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Then you may consider yourself engaged at a salary of ten dollars a week. You may come next Monday morning.”