Fame and Fortune Part 22

"Five years--goin' on six," said Micky.

"Can you earn much?"

"No," said Micky. "Business aint very good now."

"You manage to dress well," said Gilbert, with an amused look at Micky's habiliments.

"Yes," said Micky, with a glance at the bra.s.s b.u.t.tons; "but I had to borrer the money to buy my clo'es."

"There used to be a boy around here that was called d.i.c.k. Did you know him?"

"There be a good many d.i.c.ks. Which did you mean?"

"This boy was nearly your size. I believe they called him 'Ragged d.i.c.k.'"

"I know'd him," said Micky, shortly, with a scowl.

"Was he a friend of yours?"

"No, he wasn't. I give him a lickin' once."

The fact happened to be the other way; but Micky was not very scrupulous as to the strict truth of his statements.

"You don't like him, then? Where is he now?"

"He's in a store, and swells round with good clothes."

"Have you seen him lately?"

"No, an' I don't want to."

"He wears a gold watch now. I suppose he wouldn't have anything to say to you."

"Maybe not," said Mickey.

"It would be a good joke if he should lose his place and have to go back to boot-blacking again."

"I wish he would," said Micky, fervently. "It 'ould cure him of puttin'

on airs."

"If, for example, his employer should be convinced that he was a thief, he would discharge him."

"Do you know him, mister?" asked Micky, looking up suddenly.

"Yes."

"Is he a friend of yours?"

"I like him about as well as you do," said Gilbert.

"Done!" said Micky, releasing the second foot.

"Suppose you brush the other boot again. I'll pay you double. I want to talk to you a little."

"All right!" said Micky, and he resumed operations.

The conversation that followed we do not propose to chronicle. The results will appear hereafter. Enough that Gilbert and Micky departed mutually satisfied, the latter the richer by five times his usual fee.

CHAPTER XII.

d.i.c.k FALLS INTO A TRAP.

One evening, when d.i.c.k and Fosd.i.c.k returned from their respective stores, a surprise awaited them.

"The postman left some letters for you," said the servant, as she opened the door to admit them.

"Maybe they're from the tax-collectors," said d.i.c.k. "That's the misfortun' of being men of property. What was your tax last year, Fosd.i.c.k?"

"I don't remember such trifles," said Fosd.i.c.k.

"I don't think they was taxes," said the girl, seriously; "they looked as if they was from a young lady."

"Very likely they are from Fosd.i.c.k's wife," said d.i.c.k. "She's rusticatin' in the country for the benefit of her health."

"Maybe they're from yours, Mr. Hunter," said the girl, laughing.

"No," said d.i.c.k, gravely, "I'm a disconsolate widower, which accounts for my low spirits most of the time, and my poor appet.i.te. Where are the letters?"

"I left them on the bureau in your room," said the servant. "They come this afternoon at three o'clock."

Both Fosd.i.c.k and d.i.c.k felt not a little curious as to who could have written them letters, and hastened upstairs. Entering their chamber, they saw two very neat little notes, in perfumed French envelopes, and with the initial G in colors on the back. On opening them they read the following in a neat, feminine, fine handwriting. As both were alike, it will be sufficient to give d.i.c.k's.

"Miss Ida Greyson presents her compliments to Mr. Richard Hunter, and solicits the pleasure of his company on Thursday evening next, at a little birthday party.

"_No._ -- _West Twenty-Fourth Street._"

"We're getting fas.h.i.+onable," said d.i.c.k. "I didn't use to attend many parties when we lived in Mott Street and blacked boots for a livin'. I'm afraid I shan't know how to behave."

"I shall feel a little bashful," said Fosd.i.c.k; "but I suppose we've got to begin some time."

"Of course," said d.i.c.k. "The important position we hold in society makes it necessary. How'll I be able to hold levees when I'm mayor, if I don't go into society now?"

"Very true," said Fosd.i.c.k; "I don't expect to occupy any such position; but we ought to go in acknowledgment of Mr. Greyson's kindness."

Mr. Greyson was the teacher of the Sunday-school cla.s.s of which both d.i.c.k and Fosd.i.c.k were members. His recommendation had procured Fosd.i.c.k his present place, and he had manifested his kindness in various ways.