Fosdick took a key from his pocket, and went to the drawer in which the bankbooks were kept, and, opening it, brought them out for inspection.
It 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 ain’t 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 send the bundle home?” asked the salesman, impressed by the offhand 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.”
Proceeding 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.”
XIX
Fosdick Changes His Business
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.”
But 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
