"Mr. Murdock,—What will you think when I tell you that I have been unlucky enough to be arrested on suspicion of picking a man's pocket? The real thief slipped the wallet into my pocket as I was looking into a shop window, and it was found on me. I couldn't prove my innocence, so here I am at the station-house. They will think strange at the store because I am absent. Will you tell Mr. Rockwell privately what has detained me; but don't tell Mr. Gilbert. He don't like me any too well, and would believe me guilty at once, or pretend he did. I am sureyouwon't believe I would do such a thing, or Mr. Rockwell either. Will you come and see me to-night? I am to be tried to-morrow morning. I aint very proud of the hotel where I am stopping, but they didn't give me much choice in the matter."Richard Hunter.""Station-House, Franklin Street."
"Mr. Murdock,—What will you think when I tell you that I have been unlucky enough to be arrested on suspicion of picking a man's pocket? The real thief slipped the wallet into my pocket as I was looking into a shop window, and it was found on me. I couldn't prove my innocence, so here I am at the station-house. They will think strange at the store because I am absent. Will you tell Mr. Rockwell privately what has detained me; but don't tell Mr. Gilbert. He don't like me any too well, and would believe me guilty at once, or pretend he did. I am sureyouwon't believe I would do such a thing, or Mr. Rockwell either. Will you come and see me to-night? I am to be tried to-morrow morning. I aint very proud of the hotel where I am stopping, but they didn't give me much choice in the matter.
"Richard Hunter."
"Station-House, Franklin Street."
The other letter was to Fosdick; here it is:—
"Dear Fosdick,—I didn't much think when I left you this morning that I should be writing to you from the station-house before night. I'll tell you how it happened." [Here follows a detailed account, which is omitted, as the reader is already acquainted with all the circumstances.] "Of course they will wonder at the boarding-house where I am. If Miss Peyton or Mr. Clifton inquires after me to-night, you can say that I am detained by business of importance. That's true enough. I wish it wasn't. As soon as dinner is over, I wish you'd come and see me. I don't know if you can, not being acquainted with the rules of this hotel. I shan't stop here again very soon, if I can help it. There's a woman in the next cell, who was arrested for fighting. She is swearing frightfully. It almost makes me sick to be in such a place. It's pretty hard to have this happen to me just when I was getting along so well. But I hope it'll all come out right. Your true friend,"Dick."P.S.—I've given my watch and chain to the officer to keep for me. Gold watches aint fashionable here, and I didn't want them to think me putting on airs."Station-House, Franklin Street."
"Dear Fosdick,—I didn't much think when I left you this morning that I should be writing to you from the station-house before night. I'll tell you how it happened." [Here follows a detailed account, which is omitted, as the reader is already acquainted with all the circumstances.] "Of course they will wonder at the boarding-house where I am. If Miss Peyton or Mr. Clifton inquires after me to-night, you can say that I am detained by business of importance. That's true enough. I wish it wasn't. As soon as dinner is over, I wish you'd come and see me. I don't know if you can, not being acquainted with the rules of this hotel. I shan't stop here again very soon, if I can help it. There's a woman in the next cell, who was arrested for fighting. She is swearing frightfully. It almost makes me sick to be in such a place. It's pretty hard to have this happen to me just when I was getting along so well. But I hope it'll all come out right. Your true friend,
"Dick.
"P.S.—I've given my watch and chain to the officer to keep for me. Gold watches aint fashionable here, and I didn't want them to think me putting on airs.
"Station-House, Franklin Street."
After Dick had written these letters he was left to himself. His reflections, as may readily be supposed, were not the most pleasant. What would they think at the boarding-house, if they should find what kind of business it was that had detained him! Even if he was acquitted, some might suppose that he was really guilty. But there was a worse contingency. He might be unable to prove his innocence, and might be found guilty. In that case he would be sent to the Island. Dick shuddered at the thought. Just when he began to feel himself respectable, it was certainly bad to meet with such hard luck. What, too, would Mr. Greyson and Ida think? He had been so constant at the Sunday school that his absence would be sure to be noticed, and he knew that his former mode of life would make his guilt more readily believed in the present instance.
"If Ida should think me a pick-pocket!" thought poor Dick, and the thought made him miserable enough. The fact was, that Ida, by her vivacity and lively manners, and her evident partiality for his society, had quite won upon Dick, who considered her by all odds the nicest girl he had ever seen. I don't mean to say that Dick was in love,—at least not yet. Both he and Ida were too young for that; but he was certainly quite an admirer of the young lady. Again, if he were convicted, he would have to give up the party to which he had been invited, and he could never hope to get another invitation.
All these reflections helped to increase Dick's unhappiness. I doubt if he had ever felt so unhappy in all his life. But it never once occurred to him that his arrest was brought about by the machinations of his enemies. He hadn't chanced to see Micky Maguire, and had no suspicion that it was he who dropped the wallet into his pocket. Still less did he suspect that Gilbert's hostility had led him so far as to conspire with such a boy as Micky against him. It was lucky that he did not know this, or he would have felt still more unhappy.
But it is now time to turn to Micky Maguire and Mr. Gilbert, whose joint scheme had met with so much success.
Micky Maguire waited until Dick was actually on the way to the station-house, and then started for Pearl Street to acquaint Gilbert with the success of his machinations. His breast swelled with triumph at the advantage he had gained over his enemy.
"May be he'll keep his 'cheerin' reflections' to himself another time," thought Micky. "He won't have much to say about my going to the Island when he's been there himself. They won't stand none of his airs there, I'm thinkin'."
There was another pleasant aspect to the affair. Micky had not only triumphed over his enemy, but he was going to be paid for it. This was the stipulation between Gilbert and himself. The book-keeper had not promised any definite sum, but Micky, in speculating upon the proper compensation for his service, fixed upon five dollars as about what he ought to receive. Like many others who count their chickens before they are hatched, he had already begun to consider what he would buy with it when he had got it.
Now, only the day previous, Micky had noticed hanging in a window in Chatham Street, a silver watch, and chain attached, which was labelled "Genuine Silver, only Five Dollars." Since Micky had been the possessor of a blue coat with brass buttons, his thoughts had dwelt more than ever before on his personal appearance, and the watch had struck his fancy. He did not reflect much on the probable quality of a silver watch which could be sold for five dollars, and a chain thrown into the bargain. It was a watch, at any rate, and would make a show. Besides, Dick wore a watch, and Micky felt that he did not wish to be outdone. As soon as he received his reward he meant to go and buy it.
It was therefore in a very cheerful frame of mind that Micky walked up in front of Rockwell & Cooper's store, and took his stand, occasionally glancing at the window.
Ten minutes passed away, and still he remained unnoticed. He grew impatient, and determined to enter, making his business an excuse.
Entering, he saw through the open door of the office, the book-keeper, bending over the desk writing.
"Shine yer boots?" he asked.
Gilbert was about to answer angrily in the negative, when looking up he recognized his young confederate. His manner changed, and he said, "Yes, I believe I'll have a shine; but you must be quick about it."
Micky swung his box from his shoulder, and, sinking upon his knees, seized his brush, and went to work scientifically.
"Any news?" asked Gilbert, in a low voice.
"Yes, mister, I've done it," said Micky.
"Have you managed to trap him?"
"Yes, I left him on his way to the station-house."
"How did you manage it?"
"I grabbed an old fellow's wallet, and dropped it into Dick's pocket. He pulled it out, and while he was lookin' at it, up came the 'copp' and nabbed him."
"How about the man from whom the wallet was taken?"
"He came up puffin', and swore Dick was the chap that stole it."
"So he was carried off to the station-house?"
"Yes; he's there safe enough."
"Then we shall have to carry on business without him," said Gilbert, coolly. "I hope he will enjoy himself at his new quarters."
"Maybe they'll send him to the Island," said Micky, beginning his professional operations upon the second boot.
"Very likely," said Gilbert. "I suppose you've been there before this."
"Wot if I have?" said Micky, in rather a surly tone, for he did not relish the allusion.
"No offence," said Gilbert. "I only meant that if you have ever been there, you can judge whether your friend Dick will enjoy it."
"Not a great deal," said Micky; "but you needn't call him my friend. I hate him."
"Your enemy, then. But get through as soon as possible."
Micky struck his brush upon the floor to indicate that the job was finished, and, rising, waited for his fee.
Gilbert took from his pocket ten cents and handed him.
"That's for the shine," he said; "and here's something for the other matter."
So saying, he placed in the hand of the boot-black a bank-note.
Micky glanced at it, and his countenance changed ominously, when he perceived the denomination. It was a one-dollar bill!
"It's one dollar," he said.
"Isn't that enough?"
"No, it isn't," he answered, sullenly. "I might 'ave been nabbed myself. I can't afford to work on no such terms."
Micky was right. It certainly was a very small sum to receive for taking such a risk, apart from all moral considerations, and his dissatisfaction can hardly be wondered at. But Gilbert was not of a generous nature. In fact he was disposed to be mean, and in the present instance he had even expected to get the credit of being generous. A dollar, he thought, must seem an immense sum to a ragged boot-black. But Micky thought differently, and Gilbert felt irritated at his ingratitude.
"It's all you'll get," said he, roughly.
"Then you'd better get somebody else to do your dirty work next time, mister," said Micky, angrily.
"Clear out, you young blackguard!" exclaimed Gilbert, his temper by this time fully aroused. "Clear out, if you don't want to be kicked out!"
"Maybe you'll wish you'd given me more," said Micky, sullenly picking up his box, and leaving the office.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Murdock, who happened to come up just as Micky went into the street, and heard the last words of the altercation.
"Oh," said Gilbert, carelessly, "he wasn't satisfied with his pay. I gave him ten cents, but the young rascal wanted more."
As he said this, he turned back to his desk.
"I wonder whether Gilbert's going anywhere," thought the head clerk. "I never knew him so extravagant before. He must be going out this evening."
Just then it occurred to him that Dick had been absent longer than usual, and, as he needed his services, he asked, "Has Richard returned, Mr. Gilbert?"
"I haven't seen him."
"Did he go out at the usual time?"
"Yes."
"What can have detained him?" said Mr. Murdock, thoughtfully.
"He's probably fallen in with some of his old friends, and forgotten all about his duties."
"That is not his way," said Mr. Murdock, quietly, as he walked away. He understood very well Mr. Gilbert's hostility to Dick, and that the latter was not likely to receive a very favorable judgment at his hands.
Five minutes later a boy entered the store, and, looking about him a moment in uncertainty, said, "I want to see Mr. Murdock."
"I am Mr. Murdock," he answered.
"Then this note is for you."
The clerk felt instinctively that the note was from Dick, and, not wishing Gilbert to hear the conversation, motioned the boy to follow him to the back part of the store.
Then he opened and read the note quickly.
"Did Richard Hunter give this to you?" he asked.
"No," said Tim Ryan, for that was his name. "It was the 'copp' that arrested him."
"I suppose a 'copp' is a policeman."
"Yes, sir."
"Were you present when he was arrested?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know anything about it?"
"Yes, I seed it all."
"You saw the wallet taken?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did Richard take it?"
"You mean Dick?" said Tim, interrogatively, for Richard was to him a strange name.
"No, he didn't, then. He wouldn't steal. I never know'd him to."
"Then you know Dick?"
"Yes, sir. I've knowed him ever since I was so high," indicating a point about three feet above the floor.
"Then who did take it, if not he?"
"Micky Maguire."
"Who is he?"
"He blacks boots."
"Then how did it happen that he was not arrested?"
"Micky was smart enough to drop the wallet into Dick's pocket as he was standin' before a shop winder. Then he got out of the way, and Dick was nabbed by the 'copp.'"
"Is this Micky of whom you speak a friend of yours?"
"No; he likes to bully small boys."
"Then why didn't you tell the officer he had arrested the wrong boy?"
"I wanted to," said Tim, "for Dick's always been kind to me; but I was afraid Micky would give me a beatin' when he got free. Then there was another reason."
"What was that?"
"It's mean to tell of a fellow."
"Isn't it meaner to let an innocent boy get punished, when you might save him by telling?"
"Maybe it is," said Tim, perplexed.
"My lad," continued Mr. Murdock, "you say Dick has been kind to you. You now have an opportunity to repay all he has ever done, by clearing him from this false charge, which you can easily do."
"I'll do it," said Tim, stoutly. "I don't care if Micky does lick me for it."
"By the way," said Mr. Murdock, with a sudden thought, "what is the appearance of this Micky Maguire?"
"He's rather stout, and has freckles."
"Does he wear a blue coat, with large brass buttons?"
"Yes," said Tim, in surprise. "Do you know him?"
"I have seen him this morning," said Mr. Murdock. "Wait a minute, and I will give you a line to Dick; or rather it will not be necessary. If you can get a chance, let him know that I am going to call on him this afternoon. Will you be at the station-house, or near it, at six o'clock?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then we can arrange about your appearing as a witness at the trial. Here is half a dollar for your trouble in bringing the note."
"I don't want it, sir," said Tim. "I don't want to take anything for doing a good turn to Dick."
"But you have been prevented from earning money. You had better take it."
But Tim, who was a warm-hearted Irish boy, steadfastly refused, and left the store in quest of Henderson's hat and cap store, having also a note to deliver to Fosdick.
"So that was Micky Maguire who was here a little while since," said Mr. Murdock to himself. "It seems singular that immediately after getting Richard into trouble, he should have come here where he was employed. Can it be that Gilbert had a previous acquaintance with him?"
The more Mr. Murdock reflected, the more perplexed he became. It did cross his mind that the two might be in league against Dick; but then, on the other hand, they evidently parted on bad terms, and this seemed to make such a combination improbable. So he gave up puzzling himself about it, reflecting that time would clear up what seemed mysterious about the affair.
Gilbert, on his part, could not help wondering on what errand Tim Ryan came to Mr. Murdock. He suspected he might be a messenger from Dick, but thought it best not to inquire, and Mr. Murdock did not volunteer any information. When the store closed, the head clerk bent his steps towards the station-house.
The station-house to which Dick had been conveyed is situated in that part of Franklin Street which lies between Centre and Baxter Streets. The last is one of the most wretched streets in the city, lined with miserable tenement houses, policy shops, and second-hand clothing stores. Whoever passes through it in the evening, will do well to look to the safety of his pocket-book and watch, if he is imprudent enough to carry either in a district where the Ten Commandments are unknown, or unregarded.
The station-house is an exception to the prevailing squalidness, being kept with great neatness. Mr. Murdock ascended the steps, and found himself in a large room, one side of which was fenced off by a railing. Behind this was a desk, at which sat the officer in charge. To him, Mr. Murdock directed himself.
"Have you a boy, named Richard Hunter, in the house?"
"Yes," said the sergeant, referring to his minutes. "He was brought in this afternoon, charged with picking a gentleman's pocket."
"There is some mistake about this. He is as honest as I am."
"I have nothing to do with that. He will have a fair trial to-morrow morning. All I have to do is to keep him in safe custody till then."
"Of course. Where is he?"
"In a cell below."
"Can I see him?"
"If you wish."
The officer summoned an attendant, and briefly ordered him to conduct Mr. Murdock to Dick's cell.
"This way, sir," said the attendant.
Mr. Murdock followed him through a large rear room, which is intended for the accommodation of the officers. Then, descending some steps into the courtyard, he descended thence into the apartments in the basement. Here are the cells for the temporary detention of offenders who are not at once sent to the Tombs for trial. The passages are whitewashed and the cells look very neat. They are on either side, with a grating, so that one passing along can look into them readily. They are probably about seven feet long, by four or five in width. A narrow raised bedstead, covered with a pallet, occupies one side, on which the prisoner can either lie or sit, as he pleases.
"How are you, boss?" asked a negro woman, who had been arrested for drunkenness, swaying forward, as Mr. Murdock passed, and nearly losing her balance as she did so. "Can't you give me a few cents to buy some supper?"
Turning from this revolting spectacle, Mr. Murdock followed his guide to the second cell beyond where our hero was confined.
"Is it you, Mr. Murdock?" exclaimed our hero, joyfully jumping to his feet. "I am glad to see you."
"And I am glad to see you; but I wish it were somewhere else," said Mr. Murdock.
"So do I," said Dick. "I aint partial to this hotel, though the accommodations is gratooitous, and the company is very select."
"I see you will have your joke, Dick, even in such a place."
"I don't feel so jolly as I might," said Dick. "I never was in the station-house before; but I shall be lucky if I don't get sent to a worse place."
"Have you any idea who took the wallet which was found in your pocket?"
"No," said Dick.
"Do you know a boy called Micky Maguire?" proceeded Mr. Murdock.
"Yes," said Dick, looking up in surprise. "Micky used to be a great friend of mine. He'd be delighted if he only knew that I was enjoyin' the hospitality of the government."
"He does know it," said Mr. Murdock, quietly.
"How do you know?" asked Dick, quickly.
"Because it was he that stole the wallet and put it in your pocket."
"How did you find out?" asked Dick, eagerly.
"Do you know a boy named Tim Ryan?"
"Yes; he's a good boy."
"It was he that brought me your note. He saw the whole proceeding."
"Why didn't he tell, and stop my bein' arrested, then?"
"I asked him that; but he said he was afraid Micky would beat him when he found out. But he is a friend of yours, and he stands ready to testify what he knows, at your trial, to-morrow morning."
"That's lucky," said Dick, breathing a sigh of relief. "So it was Micky that served me the trick. He always loved me like a brother, Micky did, but I didn't expect he'd steal for my benefit. I'm very much obliged to him, but I'd rather dispense with such little favors another time."
"You will be surprised to learn that Micky came round to our store this afternoon."
"What for?" questioned Dick, in amazement.
"I don't know whether he came by accident or design; but Mr. Gilbert employed him to black his boots."
"Mr. Gilbert!"
"Yes. They seemed to be conversing earnestly; but I was too far off to hear what was said. Finally, Gilbert appeared to get angry, and drove the boy out."
"That's strange!" said Dick, thoughtfully. "Mr. Gilbert loves me about as much as Micky does."
"Yes, there seems to be some mystery about it. We may find out some time what it is. But here is your friend Fosdick."
"How are you, Fosdick?" hailed Dick from his cell. "I'm holdin' a little levee down here. Did you receive my card of invitation?"
"I've been uneasy all the afternoon, Dick," said Fosdick. "Ever since I heard that you were here, I've been longing to come and see you."
"Then you aint ashamed of me, even if I am in the station-house?"
"Of course I know you don't deserve to be here. Tell me all about it. I only got a chance to speak a minute with Tim Ryan, for there were customers waiting."
"I'll tell you all I know myself," said Dick. "I'm sorry to keep you standing, but the door is locked, and I've accidentally lost the key. So I can't invite you into my parlor, as the spider invited the fly."
"Don't stand on ceremony, Dick. I'd just as lieves stay outside."
"So would I," said Dick, rather ruefully.
The story was told over again, with such new light as Mr. Murdock had been able to throw upon it.
"It's just like Micky," said Fosdick. "He's a bad fellow."
"It was rather a mean trick," said Dick; "but he hasn't had a very good bringin' up, or maybe he'd be a better boy."
That he should have spoken thus, at the moment when he was suffering from Micky's malice, showed a generosity of feeling which was characteristic of Dick. No one was more frank, open, or free from malice than he, though always ready to stand up for his rights when he considered them assailed. It is this quality in Dick, joined to his manly spirit, which makes him a favorite with me, as he is also with you, let me hope, young reader.
"It'll come out right, Dick," said Fosdick, cheerfully. "Tim Ryan's testimony will clear you. I feel a good deal better about it now than I did this afternoon, when I didn't know how things were likely to go with you."
"I hope so," said Dick. "But I'm afraid you won't get any supper, if you stay any longer with me."
"How about your supper, Dick?" asked Fosdick, with sudden thought. "Do they give you any in this establishment?"
"No," said Dick; "this hotel's on the European system, with improvements. You get your lodgin' for nothing, and nothing to eat along with it. I don't like the system much. I don't think I could stand it more'n a week without its hurtin' my constitution."
"I'll go out and get you something, Dick," said Fosdick, "if the rules of the establishment allow it. Shall I?"
"Well," said Dick, "I think I might eat a little, though the place isn't very stimulatin' to the appetite."
"What shall I bring you?"
"I aint particular," said Dick.
Just then the attendant came along, and Fosdick inquired if he would be allowed to bring his friend something to eat.
"Certainly," was the reply. "We provide nothing ourselves, as the prisoners only stay with us a few hours."
"I'll be right back," said Fosdick.
Not far from the station-house, Fosdick found a baker's shop, where he bought some bread and cakes, with which he started to return. As he was nearing the station-house, he caught sight of Micky Maguire hovering about the door. Micky smiled significantly as he saw Fosdick and his burden.
"Where are you carryin' that?" he asked.
"Why do you ask?" said Fosdick, who could not feel very friendly to the author of Dick's misfortune.
"Never mind why," said Micky. "I know well enough. It's for your friend Dick. How does he like his new lodgins'?"
"How do you like them? You've been there often enough."
"Don't be impudent, or I'll lam' ye," said Micky, scowling.
As Fosdick was considerably smaller than himself, Micky might have ventured upon an assault, but deemed it imprudent in the immediate vicinity of the station-house.
"Give my compliments to Dick," he said. "I hope he'll sleep well."
To this Fosdick returned no answer, but, entering the building, descended to Dick's temporary quarters. He passed the bread and cake through the grating, and Dick, cheered by the hope of an acquittal on the morrow, and a speedy recovery of his freedom, partook with a good appetite.
"Can't you give me a mouthful, boss?" muttered the negro woman before mentioned, as she caught sight of Fosdick's load.
He passed a cake through the grating, which she seized eagerly, and devoured with appetite.
"I think I must be going," said Mr. Murdock, consulting his watch, "or my wife and children won't know what has become of me."
"Good-night, Mr. Murdock," said Dick. "Thank you for your kindness."
"Good-night, Richard. Keep up your courage."
"I'll try to."
Fosdick stopped longer. At last he went away, and our hero, left to himself, lay down upon his pallet and tried to get to sleep.
"Can you send this home for me?" asked a lady in Hall & Turner's store about three o'clock in the afternoon of the day on which Dick, as we have related, was arrested.
"Certainly, madam. Where shall it be sent?" asked the clerk.
"No. 47 West Fortieth Street," was the reply.
"Very well, it shall be sent up immediately. Here, Roswell."
Roswell Crawford came forward not very willingly. He had no great liking for the task which he saw would be required of him. Fortieth Street was at least a mile and a half distant, and he had already just returned from a walk in a different direction. Besides, the bundle was a large one, containing three dress patterns. He did not think it very suitable for a gentleman's son to be seen carrying such a large bundle through the streets.
"Why don't you send Edward?" he said, complainingly. "He doesn't do half as much as I."
"I shall send whom I please," said the clerk, sharply. "You wouldn't do anything if you could help it."
"I won't carry bundles much longer," said Roswell. "You put all the heaviest bundles off upon me."
Roswell's back being turned, he did not observe Mr. Turner, who had come up as he was speaking.
"What are you complaining about?" asked that gentleman.
Roswell turned, and colored a little when he saw his employer.
"What is the matter?" repeated Mr. Turner.
"Mr. Evans always gives me the largest bundles to carry," said Roswell.
"He is always complaining of having to carry bundles," said the clerk. "He says it isn't suitable work for a gentleman's son."
"I have noticed it," said Mr. Turner. "On the whole, I think, Mr. Crawford," he said, with mock deference, "I think you have mistaken your vocation in entering a dry-goods store. I advise you to seek some more gentlemanly employment. At the end of the week, you are at liberty to leave my employment for one better suited to you."
"I'm ready to go now," said Roswell, sulkily.
"Very well; if you desire it, I will not insist upon your remaining. If you will come up to the desk, you shall receive what is due you."
It was somewhat humiliating to Roswell to feel that his services were so readily dispensed with. Still he had never liked the place, and heartily disliked carrying bundles. By going at once, he would get rid of the large bundle to be carried to West Fortieth Street. Congratulating himself, therefore, on the whole, on escaping from what he regarded as a degrading servitude, he walked up to the desk in a dignified manner, and received the wages due him.
"I hope you will find some more congenial employment," said Mr. Turner, who paid him the amount of his wages.
"I have no doubt I shall," said Roswell, loftily. "My father was a gentleman, and our family has considerable influence."
"Well, I wish you success. Good-by."
"Good-by," said Roswell, and walked out of the shop with head erect.
He did not quite like going home at once, as explanation would be rather awkward under the circumstances. He accordingly crossed over to Fifth Avenue, considering that the most suitable promenade for a gentleman's son. He could not help regarding with some envy the happy possessors of the elegant buildings which he passed. Why had partial Fate denied him that fortune which would have enabled him to live in this favored locality?
"Plenty of snobs have got money," he thought. "How much better I could use it than they! I wish I were rich! You wouldn't catch me slaving my life out in a dry-goods store, or any other."
This was undoubtedly true. Work of any kind had no charms for Roswell. To walk up the avenue swinging a dandy cane, dressed in the height of the fashion, or, what was better yet, sitting back luxuriously in an elegant carriage drawn by a dashing span; such was what he regarded himself most fit for. But, unfortunately, he was not very likely to realize his wishes. The desire to enjoy wealth doesn't bring it, and the tastes of a gentleman are not a very good stock to begin life with. So Roswell sauntered along in rather a discontented frame of mind until he reached Madison Park, where he sat down on a bench, and listlessly watched some boys who were playing there.
"Hallo, Roswell!" said one of his acquaintances, coming up by chance. "How do you happen to be here?"
"Why shouldn't I be here?"
"I thought you were in a store somewhere on Sixth Avenue."
"Well, I was, but I have left it."
"When did you leave it?"
"To-day."
"Got sacked, hey?"
"Sacked," in the New York vernacular, means discharged from a place. The idea of having it supposed that he had been "sacked" was not pleasing to Roswell's pride. He accordingly answered, "I never was 'sacked' in my life. Besides, it's a low word, and I never use it."
"Well, you know what I mean. Did they turn you off?"
"No, they didn't. They would have been glad to have me stay."
"Why didn't you then?"
"I didn't like the business."
"Dry goods,—wasn't it?"
"Yes, a retail dry-goods store. If I ever go into that line again, it'll be in a wholesale store. There's a chance there for a man to rise."
"You don't call yourself a man yet,—do you?"
"I call myself a gentleman," said Roswell, shortly.
"What are you going to do now?"
"I'm in no hurry about a new place. I shall look round a little."
"Well, success to you. I must be getting back to the shop."
"What are you doing?"
"I'm learning a trade."
"Oh!" said Roswell, turning up his nose slightly, which was quite easy for him to do, as nature had given that organ an upward turn. He thought all trades low, and resolved hereafter to hold as little communication as possible with the boy who had so far demeaned himself as to be learning one. That was worse than being in a dry-goods store, and carrying around bundles.
Towards six o'clock Roswell rose from his seat, and sauntered towards Clinton Place, which was nearly a mile distant. He entered the house a little before dinner.
"Are you not earlier than usual, Roswell?" asked his mother.
"I've left the store," he said, abruptly.
"Left the store!" echoed his mother, in some dismay. "Why?"
"Because they don't know how to treat me. It's no fit place for a gentleman's son."
"I am sorry, Roswell," said Mrs. Crawford, who, like her son, was "poor and proud," and found the four dollars he earned weekly of advantage. "I'm afraid you have been foolish."
"Listen, mother, and I'll tell you all about it," he said.
Roswell gave his explanation, which, it need hardly be said, was very favorable to himself, and Mrs. Crawford was finally brought to believe that Hall & Turner were low people, with whom it was not suitable for one of her son's gentlemanly tastes to be placed. His vindication was scarcely over, when the bell rang, and his Cousin Gilbert was admitted.
Mr. Gilbert entered briskly, and with a smiling face. He felt unusually complaisant, having succeeded in his designs against our hero.
"Well, James," said Mrs. Crawford, "you look in better spirits than I feel."
"What's happened amiss?"
"Roswell has given up his place."
"Been discharged, you mean."
"No," said Roswell, "I left the place of my own accord."
"What for?"
"I don't like the firm, nor the business. I wish I were in Mr. Rockwell's."
"Well," said Gilbert, "perhaps I can get you in there."
"Has the boot-black left?"
"He's found another place," said Gilbert, smiling at what he regarded as a good joke.
"You don't mean to say he has left a place where he was earning ten dollars a week?" said Mrs. Crawford, in surprise. "Where is this new place that you speak of?"
"In the station-house."
"Is he in the station-house?" asked Roswell, eagerly.
"That is what I hear."
"What's he been doing?"
"Charged with picking a pocket."
"Well, I do hope Mr. Rockwell will now see his folly in engaging a boy from the streets," said Mrs. Crawford, charitably concluding that there was no doubt of our hero's guilt.
"What'll be done with him, Cousin James?" asked Roswell.
"He'll be sent to the Island, I suppose."
"He may get clear."
"I think not. Circumstances are very much against him, I hear."
"And will you try to get me in, Cousin James?"
"I'll do what I can. Perhaps it may be well for you to drop in to-morrow about ten o'clock."
"All right,—I'll do it."
Both Mrs. Crawford's and Roswell's spirits revived wonderfully, and Mr. Gilbert, too, seemed unusually lively. And all because poor Dick had got into difficulties, and seemed in danger of losing both his place and his good name.
"It's lucky I left Hall & Turner's just as I did!" thought Roswell, complacently. "May be they'd like to engage the boot-black when he gets out of prison. But I guess he'll have to go back to blacking boots. That's what he's most fit for."
After his interview with Mr. Murdock and Henry Fosdick, Dick felt considerably relieved. He not only saw that his friends were convinced of his innocence, but, through Tim Ryan's testimony, he saw that there was a reasonable chance of getting clear. He had begun to set a high value on respectability, and he felt that now he had a character to sustain.
The night wore away at last. The pallet on which he lay was rather hard; but Dick had so often slept in places less comfortable that he cared little for that. When he woke up, he did not at first remember where he was, but he very soon recalled the circumstances, and that his trial was close at hand.
"I hope Mr. Murdock won't oversleep himself," thought our hero. "If he does, it'll be a gone case with me."
At an early hour the attendant of the police station went the rounds, and Dick was informed that he was wanted. Brief space was given for the arrangement of the toilet. In fact, those who avail themselves of the free lodgings provided at the station-house rarely pay very great attention to their dress or personal appearance. Dick, however, had a comb in his pocket, and carefully combed his hair. He also brushed off his coat as well as he could; he also critically inspected his shoes, not forgetting his old professional habits.
"I wish I had a brush and some blackin'," he said to himself. "My shoes would look all the better for a good shine."
But time was up, and, under the escort of a policeman, Dick was conveyed to the Tombs. Probably all my readers have heard of this building. It is a large stone building, with massive columns, broad on the ground, but low. It is not only used for a prison, but there are two rooms on the first floor used for the holding of courts. Into the larger one of these Dick was carried. He looked around him anxiously, and to his great joy perceived that not only Mr. Murdock was on hand, but honest Tim Ryan, whose testimony was so important to his defence. Dick was taken forward to the place provided for those awaiting trial, and was obliged to await his turn. One or two cases, about which there was no doubt, including the colored woman arrested for drunkenness, were summarily disposed of, and the next case was called. The policeman who had arrested Dick presented himself with our hero.
Dick was so neatly dressed, and looked so modest and self-possessed, that the judge surveyed him with some surprise.
"What is this lad charged with?" he demanded.
"With taking a wallet from a gentleman's pocket," said the policeman.
"Did you arrest him?"
"I did."
"Did you take him in the act?"
"No; I did not see him take it."
"What have you to say, prisoner? Are you guilty or not guilty?" said the judge, turning to Dick.
"Not guilty," said Dick, quietly.
"State why you made the arrest," said the judge.
"I saw him with the wallet in his hand."
"Is the gentleman who had his pocket picked, present?"
"He is."
"Summon him."
The red-faced man came forward, and gave his testimony. He stated that he was standing on the sidewalk, when he felt a hand thrust into his pocket, and forcibly withdrawn. He immediately felt for his wallet, and found it gone. Turning, he saw a boy running, and immediately gave chase.
"Was the boy you saw running the prisoner?"
"I suppose it was."
"You suppose? Don't you know?"
"Of course it was, or he would not have been found with the wallet in his hand."
"But you cannot identify him from personal observation?"
The red-faced man admitted with some reluctance that his eyesight was very poor, and he did not catch sight of the boy till he was too far off to be identified.
"This is not so clear as it might be," said the judge. "Still, appearances are against the prisoner, and as the wallet was found in his possession, he must be found guilty, unless that fact can be satisfactorily explained."
"I have a witness who can explain it," said Dick.
"Where is he?"
Tim Ryan, who understood that his evidence was now wanted, came forward.
After being sworn, the judge asked, "What is your name?"
"Tim Ryan, sir."
"Where do you live?"
"In Mulberry Street."
"Tell what you know of this case."
"I was standing in Chatham Street, when I saw the ould gintleman with the red face (here the prosecutor scowled at Tim, not relishing the description which was given of him) standing at the corner of Pearl Street. A boy came up, and put his hand into his pocket, and then run away as fast as his legs could carry him, wid the wallet in his hand."
"Who was this boy? Do you know him?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell his name."
"It was Micky Maguire," said Tim, reluctantly.
"And who is Micky Maguire?"
"He blacks boots."
"Then if this Micky Maguire took the wallet, how happened it that it was found in this boy's possession?"
"I can tell that," said Tim. "I ran after Micky to see if he'd get off wid the wallet. He hadn't gone but a little way when I saw him slip it into Dick's pocket."
"I suppose you mean by Dick, the prisoner at the bar?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what became of this Micky?"
"He stopped runnin' after he'd got rid of the pocket-book, and a minute after, up came the 'copp,' and took Dick."
"Why didn't you come forward, and explain the mistake?"
"I was afraid Micky'd beat me."
"Do you know this Micky Maguire?" said the judge, turning to the officer.
"I do."
"What is his reputation?"
"Bad. He's been at the Island three or four times already."
"Did you see him anywhere about when you made the arrest?"
"I did."
"Do you know this boy who has just testified?"
"Yes. He is a good boy."
"The case seems a clear one. The prisoner is discharged from custody. Arrest Micky Maguire on the same charge as early as possible."
The next case was called, and Dick was free.
Mr. Murdock came forward, and took him by the hand, which he shook heartily.
"I congratulate you on your acquittal," he said.
"I feel a little better than I did," said Dick. "Tim, you're a good fellow," he said, clasping Tim's hand. "I wouldn't have got off, if it hadn't been for you."
"I ought to do that much for you, Dick, when you've been so kind to me."
"How are you getting along now, Tim?"
"Pretty well. Mother's got so she can work and we're doin' well. When she was sick, it was pretty hard."
"Here's something to help you along," said Dick, and he drew a bill from his pocket.
"Five dollars!" said Tim, in surprise.
"You can buy some new clothes, Tim."
"I ought not to take so much as that, Dick."
"It's all right, Tim. There's some more where that comes from."
They were in Centre Street by this time. Fosdick came up hurriedly.
"Have you got off, Dick?" he asked, eagerly.
"Yes, Fosdick. There's no chance of my being entertained at the expense of the city."
"I didn't expect the trial was coming off so early. Tell me all about it."
"What did they say at the house at my being away?" asked Dick.
"Miss Peyton inquired particularly after you. I said, as you directed me, that you were detained by important business."
"What did she say then?"
Dick was so particular in his inquiries, fearing lest any suspicion should have been formed of the real cause which had detained him. There was no reason for it; but it had always been a matter of pride with him in his vagabond days that he had never been arrested on any charge, and it troubled him that he should even have been suspected of theft.
"You are fishing for compliments, Dick," said Fosdick.
"How do you make that out?"
"You want to know what Miss Peyton said. I believe you are getting interested in her."
"When I am, just send me to a lunatic asylum," said Dick.
"I am afraid you are getting sarcastic, Dick. However, not to keep you in suspense, Miss Peyton said that you were one of the wittiest young men she knew of, and you were quite the life of the house."
"I suppose I ought to blush," said Dick; "but I'm a prey to hunger just now, 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."
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 arrestedon suspicionof 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 place."