Fame and Fortune Part 12

"How do you know but it may have come from a _lady_ friend, Mr.

Clifton?" said Miss Peyton, slyly.

"How is that, Hunter?"

"I haven't had any presents from any of my lady friends yet," said d.i.c.k.

"Perhaps I may some time."

"You don't mean anybody in particular, of course, Mr. Hunter?" said Miss Peyton.

"Oh, no, of course not."

This conversation may seem scarcely worth recording, but it will serve to ill.u.s.trate the character of d.i.c.k's fellow-boarders. Miss Peyton was rather silly and affected, but she was good-natured, and d.i.c.k felt more at home with her than he would have done had she been a lady like Mrs.

Rockwell, for instance. It got to be the custom with d.i.c.k and Fosd.i.c.k to remain in the parlor a short time after supper, or rather dinner, for this was the third meal, and Fosd.i.c.k joined the young lady in singing.

d.i.c.k unfortunately had not been gifted by nature with a voice attuned to melody, and he partic.i.p.ated only as a listener, in which capacity he enjoyed the entertainment.

After breakfast d.i.c.k set out for the store as usual. He felt unusually happy and independent as he walked along. The check in his pocket made him feel rich. He wondered how it would be best to invest his money so as to yield him the largest return. He wisely decided to take Mr.

Murdock, the head clerk, into his confidence, and ask his advice upon this point.

When d.i.c.k arrived at the store neither Mr. Gilbert nor Mr. Murdock had yet arrived. Half an hour later the latter came, and five minutes after him the book-keeper.

The latter noticed that the morning paper appeared to have been disturbed, and, glad of any opportunity to find fault with d.i.c.k, said, angrily, "So you've been reading the paper instead of minding your work, have you? I'll report you to Mr. Rockwell."

"Thank you," said d.i.c.k, "you're very kind. Are you sure I read the paper? Is there any news missin' out of it?"

"You're an impudent boy," said the book-keeper, provoked. He wanted to overawe d.i.c.k; but somehow d.i.c.k wouldn't be overawed. Evidently he did not entertain as much respect for the book-keeper as that gentleman felt to be his due. That a mere errand-boy should bandy words with a gentleman in his position seemed to Mr. Gilbert highly reprehensible.

"You're an impudent boy!" repeated Gilbert, sharply, finding d.i.c.k did not reply to his first charge.

"I heard you make that remark before," said d.i.c.k, quietly.

Now there was nothing out of the way in d.i.c.k's tone, which was perfectly respectful, and he only stated a fact; but the book-keeper became still more angry.

"Who rumpled that paper?" he asked.

"Suppose you ask Mr. Murdock?" said d.i.c.k.

"Did he come in here?" asked Gilbert, cooling down, for it was against d.i.c.k that his charge was made, and not against the head clerk. As to the paper, he really cared nothing.

"Yes," said d.i.c.k.

"Then it's all right. I supposed you had been idling your time over the paper. Go and ask Mr. Murdock what time it is. I left my watch at home."

"It's half past eight," said d.i.c.k, drawing out his watch.

Up to this time the book-keeper had not noticed d.i.c.k's watch-chain. Now that his attention was drawn not only to that, but to the beautiful gold watch which d.i.c.k carried, he was not a little surprised.

"Whose watch is that?" he asked, abruptly.

"Mine," said d.i.c.k, briefly, rather enjoying the book-keeper's surprise.

"How did you come by it?"

"Honestly," said d.i.c.k.

"Is it gold, or only plated?"

"It's gold."

"Humph! Did you buy it, or was it given you?"

"Well," said d.i.c.k, "I didn't buy it."

"Did you say it was yours?"

"Yes."

Gilbert looked at d.i.c.k in surprise. Our hero was becoming more and more an enigma to him. That a boy in d.i.c.k's position should have a gold watch given him, especially now that he had learned from his cousin Roswell the nature of d.i.c.k's former employment, seemed indeed wonderful.

"Let me look at your watch a minute," he said.

d.i.c.k handed it to him.

"It seems to be a very good one," he said.

"Yes," said d.i.c.k; "I aint proud. It's as good as I want to wear."

"It looks entirely out of place on such a boy as you," said the book-keeper, sharply.

"Perhaps it would look better on you," suggested our hero, innocently.

"Yes, it would be more appropriate for me to wear than you. You're not old enough to be trusted with a watch; least of all with such a good one as that."

"Perhaps you'd be kind enough to mention it to the one that gave it to me."

"Whoever gave it to you didn't show much judgment," said Gilbert, in the same pleasant way. "Who was it?"

"It was Mrs. Rockwell."

If a bombsh.e.l.l had exploded in the office, it could hardly have taken Gilbert more by surprise.

"Who did you say?" he repeated, thinking his ears might have deceived him.

"Mrs. Rockwell," said d.i.c.k, once more.

The book-keeper could hardly suppress a low whistle.

"When did she give it to you?"