Fame and Fortune; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  CHAPTER III.

  AT THE POST-OFFICE.

  The New York Post-Office is built of brick, and was formerly a church.It is a shabby building, and quite unworthy of so large and important acity. Of course Dick was quite familiar with its general appearance; butas his correspondence had been very limited, he had never had occasionto ask for letters.

  There were several letters in Box 5,670. Dick secured these, and,turning round to go out, his attention was drawn to a young gentleman ofabout his own age, who, from his consequential air, appeared to feel hisown importance in no slight degree. He recognized him at once as RoswellCrawford, a boy who had applied unsuccessfully for the place whichFosdick obtained in Henderson's hat and cap store.

  Roswell recognized Dick at the same time, and perceiving that our herowas well-dressed, concluded to speak to him, though he regarded Dick asinfinitely beneath himself in the social scale, on account of his formeremployment. He might not have been so condescending, but he was curiousto learn what Dick was about.

  "I haven't seen you for some time," he said, in a patronizing tone.

  "No," said Dick, "and I haven't seen you for some time either, which isa very curious coincidence."

  "How's boot-blacking, now?" inquired Roswell, with something of a sneer.

  "Tip-top," said Dick, not at all disturbed by Roswell's manner. "I do itwholesale now, and have been obliged to hire a large building on PearlStreet to transact my business in. You see them letters? They're allfrom wholesale customers."

  "I congratulate you on your success," said Roswell, in the samedisagreeable manner. "Of course that's all humbug. I suppose you've gota place."

  "Yes," said Dick.

  "Who are you with?"

  "Rockwell & Cooper, on Pearl Street."

  "How did you get it?" asked Roswell, appearing surprised. "Did they knowyou had been a boot-black?"

  "Of course they did."

  "I shouldn't think that they would have taken you."

  "Why not?"

  "There are not many firms that would hire a boot-black, when they couldget plenty of boys from nice families."

  "Perhaps they might have secured your services if they had applied,"said Dick, good-humoredly.

  "I've got a place," said Roswell, in rather an important manner. "I'mvery glad I didn't go into Henderson's hat and cap store. I've got abetter situation."

  "Have you?" said Dick. "I'm glad to hear it. I'm always happy to hearthat my friends are risin' in the world."

  "You needn't class me among your friends," said Roswell, superciliously.

  "No, I won't," said Dick. "I'm goin' to be particular about myassociates, now that I'm gettin' up in the world."

  "Do you mean to insult me?" demanded Roswell, haughtily.

  "No," said Dick. "I wouldn't on any account. I should be afraid you'dwant me to fight a duel, and that wouldn't be convenient, for I haven'tmade my will, and I'm afraid my heirs would quarrel over my extensiveproperty."

  "How much do you get a week?" asked Roswell, thinking it best to changethe subject.

  "Ten dollars," said Dick.

  "Ten dollars!" ejaculated Roswell. "That's a pretty large story."

  "You needn't believe it if you don't want to," said Dick. "That won'tmake any difference to me as long as they pay me reg'lar."

  "Ten dollars! Why, I never heard of such a thing," exclaimed Roswell,who only received four dollars a week himself, and thought he was doingwell.

  "Do you think I'd give up a loocrative business for less?" asked Dick."How much do you get?"

  "That's my business," said Roswell, who, for reasons that may beguessed, didn't care to mention the price for which he was working.Judging Dick by himself, he thought it would give him a chance to exultover him.

  "I suppose it is," said Dick; "but as you was so partic'lar to find outhow much I got, I thought I'd inquire."

  "You're trying to deceive me; I don't believe you get more than threedollars a week."

  "Don't you? Is that what you get?"

  "I get a great deal more."

  "I'm happy to hear it."

  "I can find out how much you get, if I want to."

  "You've found out already."

  "I know what you say, but I've got a cousin in Rockwell & Cooper's."

  "Have you?" asked Dick, a little surprised. "Who is it?"

  "It is the book-keeper."

  "Mr. Gilbert?"

  "Yes; he has been there five years. I'll ask him about it."

  "You'd better, as you're so anxious to find out. Mr. Gilbert is a friendof mine. He spoke only this morning of my valooable services."

  Roswell looked incredulous. In fact he did not understand Dick at all;nor could he comprehend his imperturbable good-humor. There were severalthings that he had said which would have offended most boys; but Dickmet them with a careless good-humor, and an evident indifference toRoswell's good opinion, which piqued and provoked that young man.

  It must not be supposed that while this conversation was going on theboys were standing in the post-office. Dick understood his duty to hisemployers too well to delay unnecessarily while on an errand, especiallywhen he was sent to get letters, some of which might be of an importantand urgent nature.

  The two boys had been walking up Nassau Street together, and they hadnow reached Printing House Square.

  "There are some of your old friends," said Roswell, pointing to a groupof ragged boot-blacks, who were on the alert for customers, crying toeach passer, "Shine yer boots?"

  "Yes," said Dick, "I know them all."

  "No doubt," sneered Roswell. "They're friends to be proud of."

  "I'm glad you think so," said Dick. "They're a rough set," he continued,more earnestly; "but there's one of them, at least, that's ten timesbetter than you or I."

  "Speak for yourself, if you please," said Roswell, haughtily.

  "I'm speakin' for both of us," said Dick. "There's one boy there, onlytwelve years old, that's supported his sick mother and sister for more'na year, and that's more good than ever you or I did.--How are you, Tom?"he said, nodding to the boy of whom he had spoken.

  "Tip-top, Dick," said a bright-looking boy, who kept as clean as hisavocation would permit. "Have you given up business?"

  "Yes, Tom. I'll tell you about it some other time. I must get back toPearl Street with these letters. How's your mother?"

  "She aint much better, Dick."

  "Buy her some oranges. They'll do her good," and Dick slipped half adollar into Tom's hand.

  "Thank you, Dick. She'll like them, I know, but you oughtn't to give somuch."

  "What's half a dollar to a man of my fortune?" said Dick. "Take care ofyourself, Tom. I must hurry back to the store."

  Roswell was already gone. His pride would not permit him to stand bywhile Dick was conversing with a boot-black. He felt that his positionwould be compromised. As for Dick, he was so well dressed that nobodywould know that he had ever been in that business. The fact is, Roswell,like a great many other people, was troubled with a large share ofpride, though it might have puzzled himself to explain what he had to beproud of. Had Dick been at all like him he would have shunned all hisformer acquaintances, and taken every precaution against having itdiscovered that he had ever occupied a similar position. But Dick wasabove such meanness. He could see that Tom, for instance, was farsuperior in all that constituted manliness to Roswell Crawford, and,boot-black though he was, he prepared to recognize him as a friend.

  When Dick reached the store, he did not immediately see Mr. Rockwell.

  He accordingly entered the counting-room where Gilbert, the book-keeper,was seated at a desk.

  "Here are the letters, Mr. Gilbert," said Dick.

  "Lay them down," said the book-keeper, sourly. "You've been gone longenough. How many did you drop on the way?"

  "I didn't know I was expected to drop any," said Dick. "If I had beentold to do so, I would have obeyed orders cheerfully."

  Mr. Gilbert was about to remark that Di
ck was an impudent young rascal,when the sudden entrance of Mr. Rockwell compelled him to suppress theobservation, and he was obliged to be content with muttering it tohimself.

  "Back already, Richard?" said his employer, pleasantly. "Where are theletters?"

  "Here, sir," said Dick.

  "Very well, you may go to Mr. Murdock, and see what he can find for youto do."

  Mr. Rockwell sat down to read his letters, and Dick went as directed tothe head clerk.

  "Mr. Rockwell sent me to you, Mr. Murdock," he said. "He says you willfind something for me to do."

  "Oh, yes, we'll keep you busy," said the head clerk, with a manner verydifferent from that of the book-keeper. "At present, however, yourduties will be of rather a miscellaneous character. We shall want youpartly for an entry clerk, and partly to run to the post-office, bank,and so forth."

  "All right, sir," said Dick. "I'm ready to do anything that is requiredof me. I want to make myself useful."

  "That's the right way to feel, my young friend. Some boys are sobig-feeling and put on so many airs, that you'd think they were partnersin the business, instead of beginning at the lowest round of the ladder.A while ago Mr. Gilbert brought round a cousin of his, about your age,that he wanted to get in here; but the young gentleman was altogethertoo lofty to suit me, so we didn't take him."

  "Was the boy's name Roswell Crawford?"

  "Yes; do you know him?"

  "Not much. He thinks I'm too far beneath him for him to associate with,but he was kind enough to walk up Nassau Street with me this morning,just to encourage me a little."

  "That was kind in him, certainly," said the head clerk, smiling. "UnlessI am very much mistaken, you will be able to get along without hispatronage."

  "I hope so," said Dick.

  The rest of the day Dick was kept busy in various ways. He took holdwith a will, and showed himself so efficient that he made a favorableimpression upon every one in the establishment, except the book-keeper.For some reason or other Mr. Gilbert did not like Dick, and wasdetermined to oust him from his situation if an opportunity shouldoffer.