There was another way in which Dick sometimes lost money. There was a noted gambling-house on Baxter Street, which in the evening was sometimes crowded with these juvenile gamesters, who staked their hard earnings, generally losing of course, and refreshing themselves from time to time with a vile mixture of liquor at two cents a glass. Sometimes Dick strayed in here, and played with the rest.
I have mentioned Dick’s faults and defects, because I want it understood, to begin with, that I don’t consider him a model boy. But there were some good points about him nevertheless. He was above doing anything mean or dishonorable. He would not steal, or cheat, or impose upon younger boys, but was frank and straightforward, manly and self-reliant. His nature was a noble one, and had saved him from all mean faults. I hope my young readers will like him as I do, without being blind to his faults. Perhaps, although he was only a bootblack, they may find something in him to imitate.
And now, having fairly introduced Ragged Dick to my young readers, I must refer them to the next chapter for his further adventures.
II
Johnny Nolan
After Dick had finished polishing Mr. Greyson’s boots he was fortunate enough to secure three other customers, two of them reporters in the Tribune establishment, which occupies the corner of Spruce Street and Printing House Square.
When Dick had got through with his last customer the City Hall clock indicated eight o’clock. He had been up an hour, and hard at work, and naturally began to think of breakfast. He went up to the head of Spruce Street, and turned into Nassau. Two blocks further, and he reached Ann Street. On this street was a small, cheap restaurant, where for five cents Dick could get a cup of coffee, and for ten cents more, a plate of beefsteak with a plate of bread thrown in. These Dick ordered, and sat down at a table.
It was a small apartment with a few plain tables unprovided with cloths, for the class of customers who patronized it were not very particular. Our hero’s breakfast was soon before him. Neither the coffee nor the steak were as good as can be bought at Delmonico’s; but then it is very doubtful whether, in the present state of his wardrobe, Dick would have been received at that aristocratic restaurant, even if his means had admitted of paying the high prices there charged.
Dick had scarcely been served when he espied a boy about his own size standing at the door, looking wistfully into the restaurant. This was Johnny Nolan, a boy of fourteen, who was engaged in the same profession as Ragged Dick. His wardrobe was in very much the same condition as Dick’s.
“Had your breakfast, Johnny?” inquired Dick, cutting off a piece of steak.
“No.”
“Come in, then. Here’s room for you.”
“I ain’t got no money,” said Johnny, looking a little enviously at his more fortunate friend.
“Haven’t you had any shines?”
“Yes, I had one, but I shan’t get any pay till tomorrow.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Try me, and see.”
“Come in. I’ll stand treat this morning.”
Johnny Nolan was nowise slow to accept this invitation, and was soon seated beside Dick.
“What’ll you have, Johnny?”
“Same as you.”
“Cup o’ coffee and beefsteak,” ordered Dick.
These were promptly brought, and Johnny attacked them vigorously.
Now, in the bootblacking business, as well as in higher avocations, the same rule prevails, that energy and industry are rewarded, and indolence suffers. Dick was energetic and on the alert for business, but Johnny the reverse. The consequence was that Dick earned probably three times as much as the other.
“How do you like it?” asked Dick, surveying Johnny’s attacks upon the steak with evident complacency.
“It’s hunky.”
I don’t believe “hunky” is to be found in either Webster’s or Worcester’s big dictionary; but boys will readily understand what it means.
“Do you come here often?” asked Johnny.
“Most every day. You’d better come too.”
“I can’t afford it.”
“Well, you’d ought to, then,” said Dick. “What do you do I’d like to know?”
“I don’t get near as much as you, Dick.”
“Well you might if you tried. I keep my eyes open—that’s the way I get jobs. You’re lazy, that’s what’s the matter.”
Johnny did not see fit to reply to this charge. Probably he felt the justice of it, and preferred to proceed with the breakfast, which he enjoyed the more as it cost him nothing.
Breakfast over, Dick walked up to the desk, and settled the bill. Then, followed by Johnny, he went out into the street.
“Where are you going, Johnny?”
“Up to Mr. Taylor’s, on Spruce Street, to see if he don’t want a shine.”
“Do you work for him reg’lar?”
“Yes. Him and his partner wants a shine most every day. Where are you goin’?”
“Down front of the Astor House. I guess I’ll find some customers there.”
At this moment Johnny started, and, dodging into an entry way, hid behind the door, considerably to Dick’s surprise.
“What’s the matter now?” asked our hero.
“Has he gone?” asked Johnny, his voice betraying anxiety.
“Who gone, I’d like to know?”
“That man in the brown coat.”
“What of him. You ain’t scared of him, are you?”
“Yes, he got me a place once.”
“Where?”
“Ever so far off.”
“What if he did?”
“I ran away.”
“Didn’t you like it?”
“No, I had to get up too early. It was on a farm, and I had to get up at five to take care of the cows. I like
