"Very much," answered Henry.
The little girl brought a book of handsome engravings, and, seating herself beside Dick, to whom she seemed to have taken a decided fancy, commenced showing them to him.
"There are the Pyramids of Egypt," she said, pointing to one engraving.
"What are they for?" asked Dick, puzzled. "I don't see any winders."
"No," said Ida, "I don't believe anybody lives there. Do they, papa?"
"No, my dear. They were used for the burial of the dead. The largest of them is said to be the loftiest building in the world with one exception. The spire of the Cathedral of Strasburg is twenty-four feet higher, if I remember rightly."
"Is Egypt near here?" asked Dick.
"Oh, no, it's ever so many miles off; about four or five hundred. Didn't you know?"
"No," said Dick. "I never heard."
"You don't appear to be very accurate in your information, Ida," said her mother. "Four or five thousand miles would be considerably nearer the truth."
After a little more conversation they sat down to dinner. Dick seated himself in an embarrassed way. He was very much afraid of doing or saying something which would be considered an impropriety, and had the uncomfortable feeling that everybody was looking at him, and watching his behavior.
"Where do you live, Dick?" asked Ida, familiarly.
"In Mott Street."
"Where is that?"
"More than a mile off."
"Is it a nice street?"
"Not very," said Dick. "Only poor folks live there."
"Are you poor?"
"Little girls should be seen and not heard," said her mother, gently.

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gif"If you are," said Ida, "I'll give you the five-dollar gold-piece aunt gave me for a birthday present."
"Dick cannot be called poor, my child," said Mrs. Greyson, "since he earns his living by his own exertions."
"Do you earn your living?" asked Ida, who was a very inquisitive young lady, and not easily silenced. "What do you do?"
Dick blushed violently. At such a table, and in presence of the servant who was standing at that moment behind his chair, he did not like to say that he was a shoe-black, although he well knew that there was nothing dishonorable in the occupation.
Mr. Greyson perceived his feelings, and to spare them, said, "You are too inquisitive, Ida. Sometime Dick may tell you, but you know we don't talk of business on Sundays."
Dick in his embarrassment had swallowed a large spoonful of hot soup, which made him turn red in the face. For the second time, in spite of the prospect of the best dinner he had ever eaten, he wished himself back in Mott Street. Henry Fosdick was more easy and unembarrassed than Dick, not having led such a vagabond and neglected life. But it was to Dick that Ida chiefly directed her conversation, having apparently taken a fancy to his frank and handsome face. I believe I have already said that Dick was a very good-looking boy, especially now since he kept his face clean. He had a frank, honest expression, which generally won its way to the favor of those with whom he came in contact.
Dick got along pretty well at the table by dint of noticing how the rest acted, but there was one thing he could not manage, eating with his fork, which, by the way, he thought a very singular arrangement.
At length they arose from the table, somewhat to Dick's relief. Again Ida devoted herself to the boys, and exhibited a profusely illustrated Bible for their entertainment. Dick was interested in looking at the pictures, though he knew very little of their subjects. Henry Fosdick was much better informed, as might have been expected.
When the boys were about to leave the house with Mr. Greyson for the Sunday school, Ida placed her hand in Dick's, and said persuasively. "You'll come again, Dick, won't you?"
"Thank you," said Dick, "I'd like to," and he could not help thinking Ida the nicest girl he had ever seen.
"Yes," said Mrs. Greyson, hospitably, "we shall be glad to see you both here again."
"Thank you very much," said Henry Fosdick, gratefully. "We shall like very much to come."
I will not dwell upon the hour spent in Sunday school, nor upon the remarks of Mr. Greyson to his class. He found Dick's ignorance of religious subjects so great that he was obliged to begin at the beginning with him. Dick was interested in hearing the children sing, and readily promised to come again the next Sunday.
When the service was over Dick and Henry walked homewards. Dick could not help letting his thoughts rest on the sweet little girl who had given him so cordial a welcome, and hoping that he might meet her again.
http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gif"Mr. Greyson is a nice man,--isn't he, Dick?" asked Henry, as they were turning into Mott Street, and were already in sight of their lodging-house.
"Aint he, though?" said Dick. "He treated us just as if we were young gentlemen."
"Ida seemed to take a great fancy to you."
"She's a tip-top girl," said Dick, "but she asked so many questions that I didn't know what to say."
He had scarcely finished speaking, when a stone whizzed by his head, and, turning quickly, he saw Micky Maguire running round the corner of the street which they had just passed.

Dick was no coward. Nor was he in the habit of submitting passively to an insult. When, therefore, he recognized Micky as his assailant, he instantly turned and gave chase. Micky anticipated pursuit, and ran at his utmost speed. It is doubtful if Dick would have overtaken him, but Micky had the ill luck to trip just as he had entered a narrow alley, and, falling with some violence, received a sharp blow from the hard stones, which made him scream with pain.
"Ow!" he whined. "Don't you hit a feller when he's down."
"What made you fire that stone at me?" demanded our hero, looking down at the fallen bully.
"Just for fun," said Micky.
"It would have been a very agreeable s'prise if it had hit me," said Dick. "S'posin' I fire a rock at you jest for fun."
"Don't!" exclaimed Micky, in alarm.
"It seems you don't like agreeable s'prises," said Dick, "any more'n the man did what got hooked by a cow one mornin', before breakfast. It didn't improve his appetite much."
"I've most broke my arm," said Micky, ruefully, rubbing the affected limb.
"If it's broke you can't fire no more stones, which is a very cheerin' reflection," said Dick. "Ef you haven't money enough to buy a wooden one I'll lend you a quarter. There's one good thing about wooden ones, they aint liable to get cold in winter, which is another cheerin' reflection."
"I don't want none of yer cheerin' reflections," said Micky, sullenly. "Yer company aint wanted here."
http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gif"Thank you for your polite invitation to leave," said Dick, bowing ceremoniously. "I'm willin' to go, but ef you throw any more stones at me, Micky Maguire, I'll hurt you worse than the stones did."
The only answer made to this warning was a scowl from his fallen opponent. It was quite evident that Dick had the best of it, and he thought it prudent to say nothing.
"As I've got a friend waitin' outside, I shall have to tear myself away," said Dick. "You'd better not throw any more stones, Micky Maguire, for it don't seem to agree with your constitution."
Micky muttered something which Dick did not stay to hear. He backed out of the alley, keeping a watchful eye on his fallen foe, and rejoined Henry Fosdick, who was awaiting his return.
"Who was it, Dick?" he asked.
"A partic'lar friend of mine, Micky Maguire," said Dick. "He playfully fired a rock at my head as a mark of his 'fection. He loves me like a brother, Micky does."
"Rather a dangerous kind of a friend, I should think," said Fosdick. "He might have killed you."
"I've warned him not to be so 'fectionate another time," said Dick.
"I know him," said Henry Fosdick. "He's at the head of a gang of boys living at the Five-Points. He threatened to whip me once because a gentleman employed me to black his boots instead of him."

"He's been at the Island two or three times for stealing," said Dick. "I guess he won't touch me again. He'd rather get hold of small boys. If he ever does anything to you, Fosdick, just let me know, and I'll give him a thrashing."
Dick was right. Micky Maguire was a bully, and like most bullies did not fancy tackling boys whose strength was equal or superior to his own. Although he hated Dick more than ever, because he thought our hero was putting on airs, he had too lively a remembrance of his strength and courage to venture upon another open attack. He contented himself, therefore, whenever he met Dick, with scowling at him. Dick took this very philosophically, remarking that, "if it was soothin' to Micky's feelings, he might go ahead, as it didn't hurt him much."
It will not be necessary to chronicle the events of the next few weeks. A new life had commenced for Dick. He no longer haunted the gallery of the Old Bowery; and even Tony Pastor's hospitable doors had lost their old attractions. He spent two hours every evening in study. His progress was astonishingly rapid. He was gifted with a natural quickness; and he was stimulated by the desire to acquire a fair education as a means of "growin' up 'spectable," as he termed it. Much was due also to the patience and perseverance of Henry Fosdick, who made a capital teacher.
"You're improving wonderfully, Dick," said his friend, one evening, when Dick had read an entire paragraph without a mistake.
"Am I?" said Dick, with satisfaction.
"Yes. If you'll buy a writing-book to-morrow, we can begin writing to-morrow evening."

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gif"What else do you know, Henry?" asked Dick.
"Arithmetic, and geography, and grammar."
"What a lot you know!" said Dick, admiringly.
"I don't know any of them," said Fosdick. "I've only studied them. I wish I knew a great deal more."
"I'll be satisfied when I know as much as you," said Dick.
"It seems a great deal to you now, Dick, but in a few months you'll think differently. The more you know, the more you'll want to know."
"Then there aint any end to learnin'?" said Dick.
"No."
"Well," said Dick, "I guess I'll be as much as sixty before I know everything."
"Yes; as old as that, probably," said Fosdick, laughing.
"Anyway, you know too much to be blackin' boots. Leave that to ignorant chaps like me."
"You won't be ignorant long, Dick."
"You'd ought to get into some office or countin'-room."
"I wish I could," said Fosdick, earnestly. "I don't succeed very well at blacking boots. You make a great deal more than I do."
"That's cause I aint troubled with bashfulness," said Dick. "Bashfulness aint as natural to me as it is to you. I'm always on hand, as the cat said to the milk. You'd better give up shines, Fosdick, and give your 'tention to mercantile pursuits."

"I've thought of trying to get a place," said Fosdick; "but no one would take me with these clothes;" and he directed his glance to his well-worn suit, which he kept as neat as he could, but which, in spite of all his care, began to show decided marks of use. There was also here and there a stain of blacking upon it, which, though an advertisement of his profession, scarcely added to its good appearance.
"I almost wanted to stay at home from Sunday school last Sunday," he continued, "because I thought everybody would notice how dirty and worn my clothes had got to be."
"If my clothes wasn't two sizes too big for you," said Dick, generously, "I'd change. You'd look as if you'd got into your great-uncle's suit by mistake."
"You're very kind, Dick, to think of changing," said Fosdick, "for your suit is much better than mine; but I don't think that mine would suit you very well. The pants would show a little more of your ankles than is the fashion, and you couldn't eat a very hearty dinner without bursting the buttons off the vest."
"That wouldn't be very convenient," said Dick. "I aint fond of lacin' to show my elegant figger. But I say," he added with a sudden thought, "how much money have we got in the savings' bank?"
Fosdick took a key from his pocket, and went to the drawer in which the bank-books were kept, and, opening it, brought them out for inspection.

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifIt was found that Dick had the sum of eighteen dollars and ninety cents placed to his credit, while Fosdick had six dollars and forty-five cents. To explain the large difference, it must be remembered that Dick had deposited five dollars before Henry deposited anything, being the amount he had received as a gift from Mr. Whitney.
"How much does that make, the lot of it?" asked Dick. "I aint much on figgers yet, you know."
"It makes twenty-five dollars and thirty-five cents, Dick," said his companion, who did not understand the thought which suggested the question.
"Take it, and buy some clothes, Henry," said Dick, shortly.
"What, your money too?"
"In course."
"No, Dick, you are too generous. I couldn't think of it. Almost three-quarters of the money is yours. You must spend it on yourself."
"I don't need it," said Dick.
"You may not need it now, but you will some time."
"I shall have some more then."
"That may be; but it wouldn't be fair for me to use your money, Dick. I thank you all the same for your kindness."
"Well, I'll lend it to you, then," persisted Dick, "and you can pay me when you get to be a rich merchant."
"But it isn't likely I ever shall be one."

"How d'you know? I went to a fortun' teller once, and she told me I was born under a lucky star with a hard name, and I should have a rich man for my particular friend, who would make my fortun'. I guess you are going to be the rich man."
Fosdick laughed, and steadily refused for some time to avail himself of Dick's generous proposal; but at length, perceiving that our hero seemed much disappointed, and would be really glad if his offer were accepted, he agreed to use as much as might be needful.
This at once brought back Dick's good-humor, and he entered with great enthusiasm into his friend's plans.
The next day they withdrew the money from the bank, and, when business got a little slack, in the afternoon set out in search of a clothing store. Dick knew enough of the city to be able to find a place where a good bargain could be obtained. He was determined that Fosdick should have a good serviceable suit, even if it took all the money they had. The result of their search was that for twenty-three dollars Fosdick obtained a very neat outfit, including a couple of shirts, a hat, and a pair of shoes, besides a dark mixed suit, which appeared stout and of good quality.
"Shall I sent the bundle home?" asked the salesman, impressed by the off-hand manner in which Dick drew out the money in payment for the clothes.
"Thank you," said Dick, "you're very kind, but I'll take it home myself, and you can allow me something for my trouble."
"All right," said the clerk, laughing; "I'll allow it on your next purchase."

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifProceeding to their apartment in Mott Street, Fosdick at once tried on his new suit, and it was found to be an excellent fit. Dick 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, Dick," said Fosdick, laughing.
"In course it does."
"You should say of course," said Fosdick, who, in virtue of his position as Dick's tutor, ventured to correct his language from time to time.
"How dare you correct your gov'nor?" said Dick, with comic indignation. "'I'll cut you off with a shillin', you young dog,' as the Markis says to his nephew in the play at the Old Bowery."

Fosdick 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 Fosdick, 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. Dick, who was always ready for an emergency, suggested borrowing a white wig, and passing himself off for Fosdick'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, Fosdick 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 Dick.
"Keep a stiff upper lip," said Dick. "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 Dick by his drollery and perpetual good spirits kept up Fosdick's courage.
"As for me," said Dick, "I expect by that time to lay up a colossal fortun' out of shines, and live in princely style on the Avenoo."

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifBut one morning, Fosdick, straying into French's Hotel, discovered the following advertisement 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 assembled 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 Fosdick to Dick, who had accompanied him. "Look at all these boys. Most of them have good homes, I suppose, and good recommendations, while I have nobody to refer to."
"Go ahead," said Dick. "Your chance is as good as anybody's."
While this was passing between Dick 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 Dick, and remarked,--

"I've seen you before."
"Oh, have you?" said Dick, whirling round; "then p'r'aps you'd like to see me behind."
At this unexpected answer all the boys burst into a laugh with the exception of the questioner, who, evidently, considered that Dick had been disrespectful.
"I've seen you somewhere," he said, in a surly tone, correcting himself.
"Most likely you have," said Dick. "That's where I generally keep myself."
There was another laugh at the expense of Roswell Crawford, for that was the name of the young aristocrat. But he had his revenge ready. No boy relishes being an object of ridicule, and it was with a feeling of satisfaction that he retorted,--
"I know you for all your impudence. You're nothing but a boot-black."
This information took the boys who were standing around by surprise, for Dick was well-dressed, and had none of the implements of his profession with him.
"S'pose I be," said Dick. "Have you got any objection?"
"Not at all," said Roswell, curling his lip; "only you'd better stick to blacking boots, and not try to get into a store."
"Thank you for your kind advice," said Dick. "Is it gratooitous, or do you expect to be paid for it?"
"You're an impudent fellow."
"That's a very cheerin' reflection," said Dick, good-naturedly.
"Do you expect to get this place when there's gentlemen's sons applying for it? A boot-black in a store! That would be a good joke."
Boys as well as men are selfish, and, looking upon Dick as a possible rival, the boys who listened seemed disposed to take the same view of the situation.
"That's what I say," said one of them, taking sides with Roswell.

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gif"Don't trouble yourselves," said Dick. "I aint agoin' to cut you out. I can't afford to give up a independent and loocrative purfession for a salary of three dollars a week."
"Hear him talk!" said Roswell Crawford, with an unpleasant sneer. "If you are not trying to get the place, what are you here for?"
"I came with a friend of mine," said Dick, indicating Fosdick, "who's goin' in for the situation."
"Is he a boot-black, too?" demanded Roswell, superciliously.
"He!" retorted Dick, loftily. "Didn't you know his father was a member of Congress, and intimately acquainted with all the biggest men in the State?"
The boys surveyed Fosdick as if they did not quite know whether to credit this statement, which, for the credit of Dick's veracity, it will be observed he did not assert, but only propounded in the form of a question. There was no time for comment, however, as just then the proprietor of the store came to the door, and, casting his eyes over the waiting group, singled out Roswell Crawford, and asked him to enter.
"Well, my lad, how old are you?"
"Fourteen years old," said Roswell, consequentially.

"Are your parents living?"
"Only my mother. My father is dead. He was a gentleman," he added, complacently.
"Oh, was he?" said the shop-keeper. "Do you live in the city?"
"Yes, sir. In Clinton Place."
"Have you ever been in a situation before?"
"Yes, sir," said Roswell, a little reluctantly.
"Where was it?"
"In an office on Dey Street."
"How long were you there?"
"A week."
"It seems to me that was a short time. Why did you not stay longer?"
"Because," said Roswell, loftily, "the man wanted me to get to the office at eight o'clock, and make the fire. I'm a gentleman's son, and am not used to such dirty work."
"Indeed!" said the shop-keeper. "Well, young gentleman, you may step aside a few minutes. I will speak with some of the other boys before making my selection."
Several other boys were called in and questioned. Roswell stood by and listened with an air of complacency. He could not help thinking his chances the best. "The man can see I'm a gentleman, and will do credit to his store," he thought.
At length it came to Fosdick's turn. He entered with no very sanguine anticipations of success. Unlike Roswell, he set a very low estimate upon his qualifications when compared with those of other applicants. But his modest bearing, and quiet, gentlemanly manner, entirely free from pretension, prepossessed the shop-keeper, who was a sensible man, in his favor.
"Do you reside in the city?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," said Henry.

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gif"What is your age?"
"Twelve."
"Have you ever been in any situation?"
"No, sir."
"I should like to see a specimen of your handwriting. Here, take the pen and write your name."
Henry Fosdick had a very handsome handwriting for a boy of his age, while Roswell, who had submitted to the same test, could do little more than scrawl.
"Do you reside with your parents?"
"No, sir, they are dead."
"Where do you live, then?"
"In Mott Street."
Roswell curled his lip when this name was pronounced, for Mott Street, as my New York readers know, is in the immediate neighborhood of the Five-Points, and very far from a fashionable locality.
"Have you any testimonials to present?" asked Mr. Henderson, for that was his name.
Fosdick 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 Fosdick, promptly; "I will refer to this gentleman."

"How do you do, Fosdick?" asked Mr. Greyson, noticing him for the first time. "How do you happen to be here?"
"I am applying for a place, sir," said Fosdick. "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 class, 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, Fosdick?" asked Dick, eagerly, as his friend came out of the store.
"I've got the place," said Fosdick, in accents of satisfaction; "but it was only because Mr. Greyson spoke up for me."
"He's a trump," said Dick, enthusiastically.
The gentleman, so denominated, came out before the boys went away, and spoke with them kindly.

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifBoth Dick and Henry were highly pleased at the success of the application. The pay would indeed be small, but, expended economically, Fosdick thought he could get along on it, receiving his room rent, as before, in return for his services as Dick's private tutor. Dick 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, Dick," said Fosdick, affectionately, throwing his arm round our hero. "When we part, it'll be because you wish it."
So Fosdick entered upon a new career.

The next morning Fosdick rose early, put on his new suit, and, after getting breakfast, set out for the Broadway store in which he had obtained a position. He left his little blacking-box in the room.
"It'll do to brush my own shoes," he said. "Who knows but I may have to come back to it again?"
"No danger," said Dick; "I'll take care of the feet, and you'll have to look after the heads, now you're in a hat-store."
"I wish you had a place too," said Fosdick.
"I don't know enough yet," said Dick. "Wait till I've gradooated."
"And can put A.B. after your name."
"What's that?"
"It stands for Bachelor of Arts. It's a degree that students get when they graduate from college."
"Oh," said Dick, "I didn't know but it meant A Boot-black. I can put that after my name now. Wouldn't Dick Hunter, A.B., sound tip-top?"
"I must be going," said Fosdick. "It won't do for me to be late the very first morning."
"That's the difference between you and me," said Dick. "I'm my own boss, and there aint no one to find fault with me if I'm late. But I might as well be goin' too. There's a gent as comes down to his store pretty early that generally wants a shine."

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifThe two boys parted at the Park. Fosdick crossed it, and proceeded to the hat-store, while Dick, hitching up his pants, began to look about him for a customer. It was seldom that Dick had to wait long. He was always on the alert, and if there was any business to do he was always sure to get his share of it. He had now a stronger inducement than ever to attend strictly to business; his little stock of money in the savings bank having been nearly exhausted by his liberality to his room-mate. He determined to be as economical as possible, and moreover to study as hard as he could, that he might be able to follow Fosdick's example, and obtain a place in a store or counting-room. As there were no striking incidents occurring in our hero's history within the next nine months, I propose to pass over that period, and recount the progress he made in that time.
Fosdick was still at the hat-store, having succeeded in giving perfect satisfaction to Mr. Henderson. His wages had just been raised to five dollars a week. He and Dick still kept house together at Mrs. Mooney's lodging-house, and lived very frugally, so that both were able to save up money. Dick had been unusually successful in business. He had several regular patrons, who had been drawn to him by his ready wit, and quick humor, and from two of them he had received presents of clothing, which had saved him any expense on that score. His income had averaged quite seven dollars a week in addition to this. Of this amount he was now obliged to pay one dollar weekly for the room which he and Fosdick occupied, but he was still able to save one half the remainder. At the end of nine months therefore, or thirty-nine weeks, it will be seen that he had accumulated no less a sum than one hundred and seventeen dollars. Dick may be excused for feeling like a capitalist when he looked at the long row of deposits in his little bank-book. There were other boys in the same business who had earned as much money, but they had had little care for the future, and spent as they went along, so that few could boast a bank-account, however small.

"You'll be a rich man some time, Dick," said Henry Fosdick, one evening.
"And live on Fifth Avenoo," said Dick.
"Perhaps so. Stranger things have happened."
"Well," said Dick, "if such a misfortin' should come upon me I should bear it like a man. When you see a Fifth Avenoo manshun for sale for a hundred and seventeen dollars, just let me know and I'll buy it as an investment."
"Two hundred and fifty years ago you might have bought one for that price, probably. Real estate wasn't very high among the Indians."
"Just my luck," said Dick; "I was born too late. I'd orter have been an Indian, and lived in splendor on my present capital."
"I'm afraid you'd have found your present business rather unprofitable at that time."

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifBut Dick had gained something more valuable than money. He had studied regularly every evening, and his improvement had been marvellous. He could now read well, write a fair hand, and had studied arithmetic as far as Interest. Besides this he had obtained some knowledge of grammar and geography. If some of my boy readers, who have been studying for years, and got no farther than this, should think it incredible that Dick, in less than a year, and studying evenings only, should have accomplished it, they must remember that our hero was very much in earnest in his desire to improve. He knew that, in order to grow up respectable, he must be well advanced, and he was willing to work. But then the reader must not forget that Dick was naturally a smart boy. His street education had sharpened his faculties, and taught him to rely upon himself. He knew that it would take him a long time to reach the goal which he had set before him, and he had patience to keep on trying. He knew that he had only himself to depend upon, and he determined to make the most of himself,--a resolution which is the secret of success in nine cases out of ten.
"Dick," said Fosdick, one evening, after they had completed their studies, "I think you'll have to get another teacher soon."
"Why?" asked Dick, in some surprise. "Have you been offered a more loocrative position?"
"No," said Fosdick, "but I find I have taught you all I know myself. You are now as good a scholar as I am."
"Is that true?" said Dick, eagerly, a flush of gratification coloring his brown cheek.
"Yes," said Fosdick. "You've made wonderful progress. I propose, now that evening schools have begun, that we join one, and study together through the winter."
"All right," said Dick. "I'd be willin' to go now; but when I first began to study I was ashamed to have anybody know that I was so ignorant. Do you really mean, Fosdick, that I know as much as you?"
"Yes, Dick, it's true."
"Then I've got you to thank for it," said Dick, earnestly. "You've made me what I am."
"And haven't you paid me, Dick?"
"By payin' the room-rent," said Dick, impulsively. "What's that? It isn't half enough. I wish you'd take half my money; you deserve it."

"Thank you, Dick, but you're too generous. You've more than paid me. Who was it took my part when all the other boys imposed upon me? And who gave me money to buy clothes, and so got me my situation?"
"Oh, that's nothing!" said Dick.
"It's a great deal, Dick. I shall never forget it. But now it seems to me you might try to get a situation yourself."
"Do I know enough?"
"You know as much as I do."
"Then I'll try," said Dick, decidedly.
"I wish there was a place in our store," said Fosdick. "It would be pleasant for us to be together."
"Never mind," said Dick; "there'll be plenty of other chances. P'r'aps A. T. Stewart might like a partner. I wouldn't ask more'n a quarter of the profits."
"Which would be a very liberal proposal on your part," said Fosdick, smiling. "But perhaps Mr. Stewart might object to a partner living on Mott Street."
"I'd just as lieves move to Fifth Avenoo," said Dick. "I aint got no prejudices in favor of Mott Street."
"Nor I," said Fosdick, "and in fact I have been thinking it might be a good plan for us to move as soon as we could afford. Mrs. Mooney doesn't keep the room quite so neat as she might."
"No," said Dick. "She aint got no prejudices against dirt. Look at that towel."
Dick held up the article indicated, which had now seen service nearly a week, and hard service at that,--Dick's avocation causing him to be rather hard on towels.
"Yes," said Fosdick, "I've got about tired of it. I guess we can find some better place without having to pay much more. When we move, you must let me pay my share of the rent."

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gif"We'll see about that," said Dick. "Do you propose to move to Fifth Avenoo?"
"Not just at present, but to some more agreeable neighborhood than this. We'll wait till you get a situation, and then we can decide."
A few days later, as Dick was looking about for customers in the neighborhood of the Park, his attention was drawn to a fellow boot-black, a boy about a year younger than himself, who appeared to have been crying.
"What's the matter, Tom?" asked Dick. "Haven't you had luck to-day?"
"Pretty good," said the boy; "but we're havin' hard times at home. Mother fell last week and broke her arm, and to-morrow we've got to pay the rent, and if we don't the landlord says he'll turn us out."
"Haven't you got anything except what you earn?" asked Dick.
"No," said Tom, "not now. Mother used to earn three or four dollars a week; but she can't do nothin' now, and my little sister and brother are too young."
Dick had quick sympathies. He had been so poor himself, and obliged to submit to so many privations that he knew from personal experience how hard it was. Tom Wilkins he knew as an excellent boy who never squandered his money, but faithfully carried it home to his mother. In the days of his own extravagance and shiftlessness he had once or twice asked Tom to accompany him to the Old Bowery or Tony Pastor's, but Tom had always steadily refused.

"I'm sorry for you, Tom," he said. "How much do you owe for rent?"
"Two weeks now," said Tom.
"How much is it a week?"
"Two dollars a week--that makes four."
"Have you got anything towards it?"
"No; I've had to spend all my money for food for mother and the rest of us. I've had pretty hard work to do that. I don't know what we'll do. I haven't any place to go to, and I'm afraid mother'll get cold in her arm."
"Can't you borrow the money somewhere?" asked Dick.
Tom shook his head despondingly.
"All the people I know are as poor as I am," said he. "They'd help me if they could, but it's hard work for them to get along themselves."
"I'll tell you what, Tom," said Dick, impulsively, "I'll stand your friend."
"Have you got any money?" asked Tom, doubtfully.
"Got any money!" repeated Dick. "Don't you know that I run a bank on my own account? How much is it you need?"
"Four dollars," said Tom. "If we don't pay that before to-morrow night, out we go. You haven't got as much as that, have you?"
"Here are three dollars," said Dick, drawing out his pocket-book. "I'll let you have the rest to-morrow, and maybe a little more."
"You're a right down good fellow, Dick," said Tom; "but won't you want it yourself?"
"Oh, I've got some more," said Dick.
"Maybe I'll never be able to pay you."
"S'pose you don't," said Dick; "I guess I won't fail."
"I won't forget it, Dick. I hope I'll be able to do somethin' for you sometime."

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gif"All right," said Dick. "I'd ought to help you. I haven't got no mother to look out for. I wish I had."
There was a tinge of sadness in his tone, as he pronounced the last four words; but Dick's temperament was sanguine, and he never gave way to unavailing sadness. Accordingly he began to whistle as he turned away, only adding, "I'll see you to-morrow, Tom."
The three dollars which Dick had handed to Tom Wilkins were his savings for the present week. It was now Thursday afternoon. His rent, which amounted to a dollar, he expected to save out of the earnings of Friday and Saturday. In order to give Tom the additional assistance he had promised, Dick would be obliged to have recourse to his bank-savings. He would not have ventured to trench upon it for any other reason but this. But he felt that it would be selfish to allow Tom and his mother to suffer when he had it in his power to relieve them. But Dick was destined to be surprised, and that in a disagreeable manner, when he reached home.

It was hinted at the close of the last chapter that Dick was destined to be disagreeably surprised on reaching home.
Having agreed to give further assistance to Tom Wilkins, he was naturally led to go to the drawer where he and Fosdick kept their bank-books. To his surprise and uneasiness the drawer proved to be empty!
"Come here a minute, Fosdick," he said.
"What's the matter, Dick?"
"I can't find my bank-book, nor yours either. What's 'come of them?"
"I took mine with me this morning, thinking I might want to put in a little more money. I've got it in my pocket, now."
"But where's mine?" asked Dick, perplexed.
"I don't know. I saw it in the drawer when I took mine this morning."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, positive, for I looked into it to see how much you had got."
"Did you lock it again?" asked Dick.
"Yes; didn't you have to unlock it just now?"
"So I did," said Dick. "But it's gone now. Somebody opened it with a key that fitted the lock, and then locked it ag'in."
"That must have been the way."
"It's rather hard on a feller," said Dick, who, for the first time since we became acquainted with him, began to feel down-hearted.
"Don't give it up, Dick. You haven't lost the money, only the bank-book."
"Aint that the same thing?"
"No. You can go to the bank to-morrow morning, as soon as it opens, and tell them you have lost the book, and ask them not to pay the money to any one except yourself."
"So I can," said Dick, brightening up. "That is, if the thief hasn't been to the bank to-day."

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gif"If he has, they might detect him by his handwriting."
"I'd like to get hold of the one that stole it," said Dick, indignantly. "I'd give him a good lickin'."
"It must have been somebody in the house. Suppose we go and see Mrs. Mooney. She may know whether anybody came into our room to-day."
The two boys went downstairs, and knocked at the door of a little back sitting-room where Mrs. Mooney generally spent her evenings. It was a shabby little room, with a threadbare carpet on the floor, the walls covered with a certain large-figured paper, patches of which had been stripped off here and there, exposing the plaster, the remainder being defaced by dirt and grease. But Mrs. Mooney had one of those comfortable temperaments which are tolerant of dirt, and didn't mind it in the least. She was seated beside a small pine work-table, industriously engaged in mending stockings.
"Good-evening, Mrs. Mooney," said Fosdick, politely.
"Good-evening," said the landlady. "Sit down, if you can find chairs. I'm hard at work as you see, but a poor lone widder can't afford to be idle."
"We can't stop long, Mrs. Mooney, but my friend here has had something taken from his room to-day, and we thought we'd come and see you about it."
"What is it?" asked the landlady. "You don't think I'd take anything? If I am poor, it's an honest name I've always had, as all my lodgers can testify."

"Certainly not, Mrs. Mooney; but there are others in the house that may not be honest. My friend has lost his bank-book. It was safe in the drawer this morning, but to-night it is not to be found."
"How much money was there in it?" asked Mrs. Mooney.
"Over a hundred dollars," said Fosdick.
"It was my whole fortun'," said Dick. "I was goin' to buy a house next year."
Mrs. Mooney was evidently surprised to learn the extent of Dick's wealth, and was disposed to regard him with increased respect.
"Was the drawer locked?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Then it couldn't have been Bridget. I don't think she has any keys."
"She wouldn't know what a bank-book was," said Fosdick. "You didn't see any of the lodgers go into our room to-day, did you?"
"I shouldn't wonder if it was Jim Travis," said Mrs. Mooney, suddenly.
This James Travis was a bar-tender in a low groggery in Mulberry Street, and had been for a few weeks an inmate of Mrs. Mooney's lodging-house. He was a coarse-looking fellow who, from his appearance, evidently patronized liberally the liquor he dealt out to others. He occupied a room opposite Dick's, and was often heard by the two boys reeling upstairs in a state of intoxication, uttering shocking oaths.

http://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifhttp://www.pagebypagebooks.com/images/spacer.gifThis Travis had made several friendly overtures to Dick and his room-mate, and had invited them to call round at the bar-room where he tended, and take something. But this invitation had never been accepted, partly because the boys were better engaged in the evening, and partly because neither of them had taken a fancy to Mr. Travis; which certainly was not strange, for nature had not gifted him with many charms, either of personal appearance or manners. The rejection of his friendly proffers had caused him to take a dislike to Dick and Henry, whom he considered stiff and unsocial.
"What makes you think it was Travis?" asked Fosdick. "He isn't at home in the daytime."
"But he was to-day. He said he had got a bad cold, and had to come home for a clean handkerchief."
"Did you see him?" asked Dick.
"Yes," said Mrs. Mooney. "Bridget was hanging out clothes, and I went to the door to let him in."
"I wonder if he had a key that would fit our drawer," said Fosdick.
"Yes," said Mrs. Mooney. "The bureaus in the two rooms are just alike. I got 'em at auction, and most likely the locks is the same."
"It must have been he," said Dick, looking towards Fosdick.
"Yes," said Fosdick, "it looks like it."
"What's to be done? That's what I'd like to know," said Dick. "Of course he'll say he hasn't got it; and he won't be such a fool as to leave it in his room."
"If he hasn't been to the bank, it's all right," said Fosdick. "You can go there the first thing to-morrow morning, and stop their paying any money on it."