The Telegraph Boy Part 13

"Yes, it's rather high up; but a feller with good eyes can see all he wants to there."

"I'll tell you what I'll do, d.i.c.k. You have been a good friend to me, and I'll take you at my expense."

"You will? To-night?"

"Yes."

"You're a reg'lar trump. We'll have a stavin' time. Sometime, when I'm flush, I'll return the compliment."

So the two boys went. They were at the doors early, and secured a front seat in the gallery. The performance was well adapted to please the taste of a boy, and they enjoyed it exceedingly. d.i.c.k was uproarious in his applause whenever a man was killed.

"Seems to me you like to see men killed, d.i.c.k," said his friend.

"Yes, it's kinder excitin'."

"I don't like that part so well as some others," said Frank.

"It's' a stavin' play, aint it?" asked d.i.c.k, greatly delighted.

Frank a.s.sented.

"I'll tell you what, Frank," said d.i.c.k; "I'd like to be a hunter and roam round the plains, killin' bears and Injuns."

"Suppose they should kill you? That wouldn't suit you so well, would it?"

"No, I guess not. But I'd like to be a hunter, wouldn't you?"

"No, I would rather live in New York. I would like to make a journey to the West if I had money enough; but I would leave the hunting to other men."

d.i.c.k, however, did not agree with his more sensible companion. Many boys like him are charmed with the idea of a wild life in the forest, and some have been foolish enough to leave good homes, and, providing themselves with what they considered necessary, have set out on a journey in quest of the romantic adventures which in stories had fired their imaginations. If their wishes could be realized it would not be long before the romance would fade out, and they would long for the good homes, which they had never before fully appreciated.

When the week was over, Frank found that he had lived within his means, as he had resolved to do; but he had not done much more. He began with a dollar which he had received from Mr. Bowen, and now he had a dollar and a quarter. There was a gain of twenty-five cents. There would have been a little more if he had not gone to the theatre with d.i.c.k; but this he did not regret. He felt that he needed some amus.e.m.e.nt, and he wished to show his grat.i.tude to his friend for various kind services. The time had come to accept Mr. Bowen's second dinner invitation. As Frank looked at his shabby clothes he wished there were a good pretext for declining, but he reflected that this would not be polite, and that the old gentleman would make allowances for his wardrobe. He brushed up his clothes as well as he could, and obtained a "_boss s.h.i.+ne_" from d.i.c.k.

Then he started for the house on Madison avenue.

"I'll lend you my clo'es if you want 'em," said d.i.c.k.

"There are too many spots of blacking on them, d.i.c.k. As I'm a newsboy, it wouldn't look appropriate. I shall have to make mine answer."

"I'll s.h.i.+ne up the blackin' spots if you want me to."

"Never mind, d.i.c.k. I'll wait till next time for your suit."

CHAPTER IX.

VICTOR DUPONT.

As Frank was walking on Madison avenue, a little before reaching the house of Mr. Bowen he met a boy of his own age, whom he recognized.

Victor Dupont had spent the previous summer at the hotel in the country village where Frank had lived until he came to the city. Victor was proud of his social position, but time hung so heavily upon his hands in the country that he was glad to keep company with the village boys.

Frank and he had frequently gone fis.h.i.+ng together, and had been a.s.sociated in other amus.e.m.e.nts, so that they were for the time quite intimate. The memories of home and past pleasures thronged upon our hero as he met Victor, and his face flushed with pleasure.

"Why, Victor," he said, eagerly, extending his hand, "how glad I am to see you!"

Frank forgot that intimacy in the country does not necessarily lead to intimacy in the city, and he was considerably surprised when Victor, not appearing to notice his offered hand, said coldly, "I don't think I remember you."

"Don't remember me!" exclaimed Frank, amazed. "Why, I am Frank Kavanagh!

Don't you remember how much we were together last summer, and what good times we had fis.h.i.+ng and swimming together?"

"Yes, I believe I do remember you now," drawled Victor, still not offering his hand, or expressing any pleasure at the meeting. "When did you come to the city?"

"I have been here two or three weeks," replied Frank.

"Oh, indeed! Are you going to remain?"

"Yes, if I can earn a living."

Victor scanned Frank's clothes with a critical, and evidently rather contemptuous, glance.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Are you in a store?"

"No; I am selling papers."

"A newsboy!" said Victor, with a curve of the lip.

"Yes," answered Frank, his pleasure quite chilled by Victor's manner.

"Are you doing well?" asked Victor, more from curiosity than interest.

"I am making my expenses."

"How do you happen to be in this neighborhood? I suppose you sell papers down-town."

"Yes, but I am invited to dinner."

"Not here--on the avenue!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Victor.

"Yes," answered Frank, enjoying the other's surprise.

"Where?"

Frank mentioned the number.

"Why, that is next to my house. Mr. Bowen lives there."

"Yes."