Fame and Fortune; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter by Jr. Horatio Alger (snow like ashes series .TXT) 📖

and it's too much of an effort."

"I'll excuse you this time," said Fosdick. "As to the hunger, that's easily remedied. We shall get home to breakfast, and be in good time too."

Fosdick was right. They were the first to seat themselves at the table. Mr. Clifton came in directly afterwards. Dick felt a momentary embarrassment.

"What would he say," thought our hero, "if he knew where I passed the night?"

"Good-morning, Hunter," said Clifton. "You didn't favor us with your presence at dinner last evening."

"No," said Dick. "I was absent on very important business."

"Dining with your friend, the mayor, probably?"

"Well, no, not exactly," said Dick, "but I had some business with the city government."

"It seems to me that you're getting to be quite an important character."

"Thank you," said Dick. "I am glad to find that genius is sometimes appreciated."

Here Miss Peyton entered.

"Welcome, Mr. Hunter," she said. "We missed you last evening."

"I hope it didn't affect your appetite much," said Dick.

"But it did. I appeal to Mr. Fosdick whether I ate anything to speak of."

"I thought Miss Peyton had a better appetite than usual," said Fosdick.

"That is too bad of you, Mr. Fosdick," said Miss Peyton. "I'm sure I didn't eat more than my canary bird."

"Just the way it affected me," said Dick. "It always improves my appetite to see you eat, Miss Peyton."

Miss Peyton looked as if she hardly knew whether to understand this remark as complimentary or otherwise.

That evening, at the dinner-table, Clifton drew a copy of the "Express" from his pocket, and said, "By Jove, Hunter, here's a capital joke on you! I'll read it. 'A boy, named Richard Hunter, was charged with picking a pocket on Chatham Street; but it appearing that the theft was committed by another party, he was released from custody.'"

Dick's heart beat a little quicker while this was being read, but he maintained his self-possession.

"Of course," said he, "that was the important business that detained me. But I hope you won't mention it, for the sake of my family."

"I'd make the young rascal change his name, if I were you," said Clifton, "if he's going to get into the Police record."

"I think I shall," said Dick, "or maybe I'll change my own. You couldn't mention a highly respectable name that I could take,—could you?"

"Clifton is the most respectable name I know of," said the young gentleman owning that name.

"If you'll make me your heir, perhaps I'll adopt it."

"I'll divide my debts with you, and give you the biggest half," said Clifton.

It is unnecessary to pursue the conversation. Dick found to his satisfaction that no one at the table suspected that he was the Richard Hunter referred to in the "Express."

CHAPTER XVIII. THE CUP AND THE LIP.

While Dick's night preceding the trial was an anxious one, Gilbert and Roswell Crawford passed a pleasant evening, and slept soundly.

"Do you think Mr. Rockwell would be willing to give me the same wages he has paid to the boot-black?" he inquired with interest.

"Perhaps he won't take you at all."

"I think he ought to pay some attention to your recommendation," said Mrs. Crawford. "You ought to have some influence with him."

"Of course," said Gilbert, "I shall do what I can in the matter; but it's a pity Roswell can't give better references."

"He's never been with a decent employer yet. He's been very unlucky about his places," said Mrs. Crawford.

She might have added that his employers had considered themselves unfortunate in their engagement of her son; but, even if she had known it, she would have considered that they were prejudiced against him, and that they were in fault entirely.

"I will do what I can for him," continued Gilbert; "but I am very sure he won't get as much as ten dollars a week."

"I can earn as much as the boot-black, I should hope," said Roswell.

"He didn't earn ten dollars a week."

"He got it."

"That's a very different thing."

"Well, if I get it, I don't care if I don't earn it."

"That's true enough," said Gilbert, who did not in his heart set a very high estimate upon the services of his young cousin, and who, had the business been his own, would certainly not have engaged him at any price.

Roswell thought it best not to say any more, having on some previous occasions been greeted with remarks from his cousin which could not by any means be regarded as complimentary.

"Do you think I had better come in at ten o'clock, Cousin James?" inquired Roswell, as breakfast was over, and Gilbert prepared to go to the counting-room.

"Well, perhaps you may come a little earlier, say about half-past nine," said the book-keeper.

"All right," said Roswell.

Being rather sanguine, he made up his mind that he was going to have the place, and felt it difficult to keep his good fortune secret. Now, in the next house there lived a boy named Edward McLean, who was in a broker's office in Wall Street, at a salary of six dollars a week. Now, though Edward had never boasted of his good fortune, it used to disturb Roswell to think that his place and salary were so much superior to his own. He felt that it was much more respectable to be in a broker's office, independent of the salary, than to run around the city with heavy bundles. But if he could enter such an establishment as Rockwell & Cooper's, at a salary of ten dollars, he felt that he could look down with conscious superiority upon Edward McLean, with his six dollars a week.

He went over to his neighbor's, and found Edward just starting for Wall Street.

"How are you, Roswell?" said Edward.

"Pretty well. Are you going down to the office?"

"Yes."

"You've got a pretty good place,—haven't you?"

"Yes, I like it."

"How much do you get?"

"Six dollars a week."

"That's very fair," said Roswell, patronizingly.

"How do you like your place?" asked Edward. "I believe you're in a dry-goods store on Sixth Avenue."

"Oh, no," said Roswell.

"You were?"

"Yes, I went in temporarily to oblige them," said Roswell, loftily; "but, of course, I wouldn't engage to remain any length of time in such a place, however large the inducements they might offer."

Considering Roswell's tone, it would hardly have been supposed that the large inducements were four dollars a week, and that, even at that compensation, his services were not desired.

"Then it wasn't a good place?" said Edward.

"Well enough for such as liked it," said Roswell. "I have no complaint of Hall & Turner. I told them that it was not dissatisfaction with them that led me to leave the place, but I preferred a different kind of business."

"Have you got another place?"

"I have an offer under consideration," said Roswell, consequentially; "one of the most solid firms in the city. They offer me ten dollars a week."

"Ten dollars a week!" repeated Edward, somewhat staggered by the statement. "That's big pay."

"Yes," said Roswell; "but I think I ought to get as much as that."

"Why, I thought myself lucky to get six dollars," said Edward.

"Yes, that's very fair," said Roswell, condescendingly. "In fact, I've worked at that figure myself; but, of course, one expects more as he grows older."

"I suppose you'll accept your offer," said Edward.

"I haven't quite made up my mind," said Roswell, carelessly. "I think I shall."

"You'd better. Such places don't grow on every bush."

Though Edward did not more than half believe Roswell's statement, he kept his disbelief to himself, feeling that it was a matter of indifference to him whether Roswell received a large or small salary.

"I must be going down to the office," he said. "Good-morning."

"Good-morning," said Roswell, and he re-entered the house, feeling that he had impressed Edward with a conviction of his superiority, and the value set upon his services by the business men of New York. He went upstairs, and picked out a flashy necktie from his drawer, tied it carefully before the glass, and about nine set out for Rockwell & Cooper's warehouse.

It is necessary for us to precede him.

Gilbert reached the counting-room at the usual time. His thoughts on the way thither were pleasant.

"I shan't be subjected to that young rascal's impertinence," he considered. "That's one satisfaction."

His astonishment, nay, dismay, may be imagined, therefore, when, on entering the counting-room, the first object his eyes rested on was the figure of Dick.

"Good-morning, Mr. Gilbert," said our hero, pleasantly.

"How came you here?" he demanded.

"I walked," said Dick. "I don't often ride. I think walkin's good for the constitution."

"You know what I mean, well enough. How did you get out of prison?"

"I haven't been there."

"You were arrested for picking a man's pocket yesterday afternoon," said Gilbert.

"Excuse me, Mr. Gilbert, you're slightly mistaken there. I was arrested on suspicion of picking a man's pocket."

"The same thing."

"Not quite, as it has been proved that I was innocent, and the wallet was taken by another boy."

"Have you been tried?"

"Yes, and acquitted."

Gilbert looked and felt disappointed. He could not conceive how Dick could have escaped when the plot to entrap him had been so artfully contrived.

"Well, young man," he said, "I'll give you a piece of advice, and if you're wise you'll follow it."

"That's kind in you," said Dick.

"I pass over your impertinence this time, and will advise you as a friend to resign your situation before Mr. Rockwell comes."

"Why should I?"

"It'll save your being discharged."

"Do you think he'll discharge me?"

"I know he will. He won't have any one in his employ who has been arrested for picking pockets."

"Not even if he didn't do it?"

"Not even if he was lucky enough to get off," said Gilbert.

"You think I'd better give up my place?"

"That'll be the best course for you to pursue."

"But how'll I get another place?"

"I'll do what I can to help you to another place if you leave at once."

"I think I'll wait and see Mr. Rockwell first."

"I'll make all the necessary explanations to Mr. Rockwell," said the book-keeper.

"I think I'd rather see him myself, if it doesn't make any difference to you."

"You're acting like a fool. You'll only be kicked out of the store. If you don't follow my advice, I shan't interest myself in getting you another place."

"Do you think I took the wallet, Mr. Gilbert?" asked Dick.

"Of course I do."

"Then how could you recommend me to another place?"

"Because I think this may prove a lesson to you. You've been lucky enough to escape this time, but you can't expect it always."

"I'm much obliged to you for your favorable opinion; but I don't think I shall resign at once."

At this moment Mr. Rockwell entered the warehouse. He had been informed of Dick's misfortune by Mr. Murdock, who had had occasion to call at his house on his way from the trial.

"How's this, Richard?" he said, advancing, with a frank smile. "I hear you got into strange quarters last night."

"Yes," said Dick; "but I didn't like it well enough to stay long."

"Why didn't you send for me?"

"Thank you, sir, I didn't like to trouble you. Mr. Murdock was very kind."

"Have they got the real thief?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Well, 'all's well that ends well.' You can afford to laugh at it now."

Mr. Gilbert listened to this colloquy with very little satisfaction.

It seemed to show such a good understanding between Dick and his employer that he perceived that it would be a very difficult thing to supersede him.

"Mr. Rockwell seems to be infatuated with that boy," he muttered to himself.

"I think I won't resign just yet," said Dick, in a low voice, to the book-keeper.

"You'll be found out some day," said Gilbert, snappishly. "Go to the post-office, and mind you don't stop to play on the way."

Dick started on his errand, and, in passing out into the street, encountered Roswell Crawford, who, attired with extra care, had just come down the street from Broadway. On seeing Dick, he started as if he had seen a ghost.

"Good-morning, Roswell," said Dick, pleasantly.

"Good-morning," said Roswell, stiffly.

"Your cousin is in the counting-room. I am in a hurry, and must leave you."

"I thought he was on his way to the Island by this time," thought Roswell, perplexed. "What can it mean?"

It occurred to him all at once that Dick might just have been discharged, and this thought cheered him up considerably. He entered the counting-room with a jaunty step.

"Good-morning, Cousin James," he said.

Gilbert turned round, and said, in a surly tone, "You may as well take yourself off. There's no chance for you here."

"Hasn't the boot-black been discharged?"

"No; and isn't going to be."

"How is that?" asked Roswell, looking very much disappointed.

"I can't stop to tell you now. You'd better go now, and I'll tell you this evening."

"Just my luck!" said Roswell to himself, considerably crest-fallen. "I wish I hadn't said a word to Edward McLean about the