CHAPTER XII.
DICK FALLS INTO A TRAP.
One evening, when Dick and Fosdick returned from their respectivestores, a surprise awaited them.
"The postman left some letters for you," said the servant, as she openedthe door to admit them.
"Maybe they're from the tax-collectors," said Dick. "That's themisfortun' of being men of property. What was your tax last year,Fosdick?"
"I don't remember such trifles," said Fosdick.
"I don't think they was taxes," said the girl, seriously; "they lookedas if they was from a young lady."
"Very likely they are from Fosdick's wife," said Dick. "She'srusticatin' in the country for the benefit of her health."
"Maybe they're from yours, Mr. Hunter," said the girl, laughing.
"No," said Dick, gravely, "I'm a disconsolate widower, which accountsfor my low spirits most of the time, and my poor appetite. Where are theletters?"
"I left them on the bureau in your room," said the servant. "They comethis afternoon at three o'clock."
Both Fosdick and Dick felt not a little curious as to who could havewritten them letters, and hastened upstairs. Entering their chamber,they saw two very neat little notes, in perfumed French envelopes, andwith the initial G in colors on the back. On opening them they read thefollowing in a neat, feminine, fine handwriting. As both were alike, itwill be sufficient to give Dick'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 fashionable," said Dick. "I didn't use to attend manyparties when we lived in Mott Street and blacked boots for a livin'. I'mafraid I shan't know how to behave."
"I shall feel a little bashful," said Fosdick; "but I suppose we've gotto begin some time."
"Of course," said Dick. "The important position we hold in society makesit necessary. How'll I be able to hold levees when I'm mayor, if I don'tgo into society now?"
"Very true," said Fosdick; "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 class of which bothDick and Fosdick were members. His recommendation had procured Fosdickhis present place, and he had manifested his kindness in various ways.Those who have read "Ragged Dick" will remember that he had a verysprightly and engaging daughter of ten years of age, who seemed to havetaken an especial fancy to Dick. Being wealthy, his kindness had been ofgreat service to both boys, inspiring them with self-respect, andencouraging them to persevere in their efforts to raise themselves to ahigher position.
The dinner-bell rang just as the boys had finished their discussion, andthey went down and took places at the table.
Soon Miss Peyton came sailing in, shaking her ringlets coquettishly. Shewas proud of these ringlets, and was never tired of trying theirfascinations upon gentlemen. But somehow they had not succeeded inwinning a husband.
"Good-evening, Mr. Hunter," said she. "You look as if you had had goodnews."
"Do I?" said Dick. "Perhaps you can tell what it is."
"I know how it came," said Miss Peyton, significantly.
"Then I hope you won't keep me in suspense any longer than you canhelp."
"Perhaps you'd rather I wouldn't mention before company."
"Never mind," said Dick. "Don't have any regard to my feelin's. They'retough, and can stand a good deal."
"How do you like the letter G?" asked Miss Peyton, slyly.
"Very much," said Dick, "as long as it behaves itself. What is yourfavorite letter?"
"Don't think I'm going to tell you, Mr. Hunter. That was a pretty littlenote, and in a young lady's hand too."
"Yes," said Dick. "Perhaps you'd like to see it."
"You wouldn't show it to me on any account, I know."
"You may see it if you like," said Dick.
"May I, really? I should like to very much; but would the young ladylike it?"
"I don't think she'd mind. She's written one to my friend Fosdick justlike it."
Dick passed the invitation across the table.
"It's very pretty indeed," said Miss Peyton. "And is Miss Ida Greysonvery handsome?"
"I'm no judge of beauty," said Dick.
"So she lives in West Twenty-Fourth Street. Is her father rich?"
"I don't know how rich," said Dick; "but my impression is that his taxeslast year were more than mine."
"I know now what your favorite letters are," said Miss Peyton. "They areI. G."
"I. G. are very well as long as you don't put P. before them," saidDick. "Thank you for another cup of tea, Mrs. Browning."
"I should think you'd need some tea after such a brilliant effort,Hunter," said Mr. Clifton, from across the table.
"Yes," said Dick. "I find my brain gets exhausted every now and then bymy intellectual efforts. Aint you troubled that way?"
"Can't say I am. Don't you want to go out and try a game of billiardsthis evening?"
"No, thank you. I've got to study."
"I expect to see you a college professor some of these days."
"I haven't made up my mind yet," said Dick. "I'm open to an offer, asthe oyster remarked when he was placed on the table. If I can serve myfellow-men best by bein' a college professor, and gettin' a big salary,I'm willin' to sacrifice my private feelin's for the public good."
"Do you agree with your friend, Mr. Fosdick?" said Miss Peyton. "Won'tyou favor us with your views?"
"I have none worth mentioning," said Fosdick. "I leave my friend to dothe talking, while I attend to the eating."
"Mr. Hunter's remarks are very entertaining," said Miss Peyton.
"Thank you," said Dick; "but my friend prefers a different kind ofentertainment."
The boys rose from the table, and went up to their room to look over theevening's lessons. They were quite pleased with their new teacher, whomthey found not only competent for his task, but interested in promotingtheir progress. He was able to help them readily out of theirdifficulties, and encouraged them to persevere. So they came to lookforward to their evening lessons not as tasks, but as pleasantexercises.
"It's strange," said Dick, one evening after the teacher had left them;"I used to enjoy goin' to the Old Bowery so much. I went two or threetimes a week sometimes. Now I would a good deal rather stay at home andstudy."
"Then you didn't have a home, and the lighted theatre must have beenmuch pleasanter than the cold and cheerless streets."
"Yes, that was it. I used to get so tired sometimes of having no home togo to, and nobody to speak to that I cared about."
"You'd hardly like to go back to the old life, Dick?"
"No, it would come pretty hard to me now. I didn't seem to mind it somuch then."
"Because you had never known anything better."
"No. It was a lucky day when I met you, Fosdick. I'd never have had thepatience to learn. Readin', or tryin' to read, always gave me theheadache."
"You always leave off the last letter in such words as 'reading,' Dick.You should be more careful, now that you associate with educatedpersons."
"I know it, Fosdick, but I'm so used to droppin'--I mean dropping--the gthat it comes natural. I will try to remember it. But about thisparty,--shall we have to get new clothes?"
"No, we have each a nice suit, and we shan't be expected to dress in theheight of the fashion."
"I wish it was over. I dread it."
"So do I a little; but I think we shall enjoy it. Ida is a nice girl."
"That's so. If I had a sister I'd like her to be like Ida."
"Perhaps she'd like a brother like you. I notice she seems to fancy yourcompany."
"I hope you're not jealous, Fosdick. You can be a brother to MissPeyton, you know."
Fosdick laughed. "There's no chance for me there either," he said. "Sheevidently prefers you."
"I'll adopt her for my aunt if it'll be gratifying to her feelings,"said Dick; "but I aint partial to ringlets as a general thing."
It is well perhaps that Miss Peyton did not hear these remarks, as shecherished the idea that both Fosdick and Dick were particularly pleasedwith her.
A day or two afterwards Dick was walking leisurely through ChathamStreet, about half past one o'clock. He was allowed an hour, about noon,to go out and get some lunch, and he was now on his way from therestaurant which he usually frequented. As it was yet early, he pausedbefore a window to look at something which attracted his attention.While standing here he became conscious of a commotion in his immediateneighborhood. Then he felt a hand thrust into the side-pocket of hiscoat, and instantly withdrawn. Looking up, he saw Micky Maguire dodginground the corner. He put his hand into his pocket mechanically, and drewout a pocket-book.
Just then a stout, red-faced man came up puffing, and evidently in nolittle excitement.
"Seize that boy!" he gasped, pointing to Dick. "He's got mypocket-book."
Contrary to the usual rule in such cases, a policeman did happen to beabout, and, following directions, stepped up, and laid his hand onDick's shoulder.
"You must go with me, my fine fellow," he said "Hand over thatpocket-book, if you please."
"What's all this about?" said Dick. "Here's the pocket-book, if it isyours. I'm sure I don't want it."
"You're a cool hand," said the guardian of the public peace. "If youdon't want it, what made you steal it from this gentleman's pocket?"
"I didn't take it," said Dick, shortly.
"Is this the boy that stole your pocket-book?" demanded the policeman ofthe red-faced man, who had now recovered his breath.
"It's the very young rascal. Does he pretend to deny it?"
"Of course he does. They always do."
"When it was found on him too! I never knew such barefaced impudence."
"Stop a minute," said Dick, "while I explain. I was standing looking inat that window, when I felt something thrust into my pocket. I took itout and found it to be that pocket-book. Just then that gentleman cameup, and charged me with the theft."
"That's a likely story," said the officer. "If any one put thepocket-book into your pocket, it shows you were a confederate of his.You'll have to come with me."
And poor Dick, for the first time in his life, was marched to thestation-house, followed by his accuser, and a gang of boys. Among theselast, but managing to keep at a respectful distance, was Micky Maguire.