Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 193 pages of information about Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks.

Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 193 pages of information about Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks.

Boys as well as men are selfish, and, looking upon Dick as a possible rival, the boys who listened seemed disposed to take the same view of the situation.

“That’s what I say,” said one of them, taking sides with Roswell.

“Don’t trouble yourselves,” said Dick.  “I aint agoin’ to cut you out.  I can’t afford to give up a independent and loocrative purfession for a salary of three dollars a week.”

“Hear him talk!” said Roswell Crawford, with an unpleasant sneer.  “If you are not trying to get the place, what are you here for?”

“I came with a friend of mine,” said Dick, indicating Fosdick, “who’s goin’ in for the situation.”

“Is he a boot-black, too?” demanded Roswell, superciliously.

“He!” retorted Dick, loftily.  “Didn’t you know his father was a member of Congress, and intimately acquainted with all the biggest men in the State?”

The boys surveyed Fosdick as if they did not quite know whether to credit this statement, which, for the credit of Dick’s veracity, it will be observed he did not assert, but only propounded in the form of a question.  There was no time for comment, however, as just then the proprietor of the store came to the door, and, casting his eyes over the waiting group, singled out Roswell Crawford, and asked him to enter.

“Well, my lad, how old are you?”

“Fourteen years old,” said Roswell, consequentially.

“Are your parents living?”

“Only my mother.  My father is dead.  He was a gentleman,” he added, complacently.

“Oh, was he?” said the shop-keeper.  “Do you live in the city?”

“Yes, sir.  In Clinton Place.”

“Have you ever been in a situation before?”

“Yes, sir,” said Roswell, a little reluctantly.

“Where was it?”

“In an office on Dey Street.”

“How long were you there?”

“A week.”

“It seems to me that was a short time.  Why did you not stay longer?”

“Because,” said Roswell, loftily, “the man wanted me to get to the office at eight o’clock, and make the fire.  I’m a gentleman’s son, and am not used to such dirty work.”

“Indeed!” said the shop-keeper.  “Well, young gentleman, you may step aside a few minutes.  I will speak with some of the other boys before making my selection.”

Several other boys were called in and questioned.  Roswell stood by and listened with an air of complacency.  He could not help thinking his chances the best.  “The man can see I’m a gentleman, and will do credit to his store,” he thought.

At length it came to Fosdick’s turn.  He entered with no very sanguine anticipations of success.  Unlike Roswell, he set a very low estimate upon his qualifications when compared with those of other applicants.  But his modest bearing, and quiet, gentlemanly manner, entirely free from pretension, prepossessed the shop-keeper, who was a sensible man, in his favor.

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Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.