Ragged Dick
By Horatio Alger

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Chapter XX. Nine Months Later

The next morning Fosdick rose early, put on his new suit, and, after getting breakfast, set out for the Broadway store in which he had obtained a position. He left his little blacking-box in the room.

“It’ll do to brush my own shoes,” he said. “Who knows but I may have to come back to it again?”

“No danger,” said Dick; “I’ll take care of the feet, and you’ll have to look after the heads, now you’re in a hat-store.”

“I wish you had a place too,” said Fosdick.

“I don’t know enough yet,” said Dick. “Wait till I’ve gradooated.”

“And can put A.B. after your name.”

“What’s that?”

“It stands for Bachelor of Arts. It’s a degree that students get when they graduate from college.”

“Oh,” said Dick, “I didn’t know but it meant A Boot-black. I can put that after my name now. Wouldn’t Dick Hunter, A.B., sound tip-top?”

“I must be going,” said Fosdick. “It won’t do for me to be late the very first morning.”

“That’s the difference between you and me,” said Dick. “I’m my own boss, and there aint no one to find fault with me if I’m late. But I might as well be goin’ too. There’s a gent as comes down to his store pretty early that generally wants a shine.”

The two boys parted at the Park. Fosdick crossed it, and proceeded to the hat-store, while Dick, hitching up his pants, began to look about him for a customer. It was seldom that Dick had to wait long. He was always on the alert, and if there was any business to do he was always sure to get his share of it. He had now a stronger inducement than ever to attend strictly to business; his little stock of money in the savings bank having been nearly exhausted by his liberality to his room-mate. He determined to be as economical as possible, and moreover to study as hard as he could, that he might be able to follow Fosdick’s example, and obtain a place in a store or counting-room. As there were no striking incidents occurring in our hero’s history within the next nine months, I propose to pass over that period, and recount the progress he made in that time.

Fosdick was still at the hat-store, having succeeded in giving perfect satisfaction to Mr. Henderson. His wages had just been raised to five dollars a week. He and Dick still kept house together at Mrs. Mooney’s lodging-house, and lived very frugally, so that both were able to save up money. Dick had been unusually successful in business. He had several regular patrons, who had been drawn to him by his ready wit, and quick humor, and from two of them he had received presents of clothing, which had saved him any expense on that score. His income had averaged quite seven dollars a week in addition to this. Of this amount he was now obliged to pay one dollar weekly for the room which he and Fosdick occupied, but he was still able to save one half the remainder. At the end of nine months therefore, or thirty-nine weeks, it will be seen that he had accumulated no less a sum than one hundred and seventeen dollars. Dick may be excused for feeling like a capitalist when he looked at the long row of deposits in his little bank-book. There were other boys in the same business who had earned as much money, but they had had little care for the future, and spent as they went along, so that few could boast a bank-account, however small.

“You’ll be a rich man some time, Dick,” said Henry Fosdick, one evening.

“And live on Fifth Avenoo,” said Dick.

“Perhaps so. Stranger things have happened.”

“Well,” said Dick, “if such a misfortin’ should come upon me I should bear it like a man. When you see a Fifth Avenoo manshun for sale for a hundred and seventeen dollars, just let me know and I’ll buy it as an investment.”

“Two hundred and fifty years ago you might have bought one for that price, probably. Real estate wasn’t very high among the Indians.”

“Just my luck,” said Dick; “I was born too late. I’d orter have been an Indian, and lived in splendor on my present capital.”

“I’m afraid you’d have found your present business rather unprofitable at that time.”

But Dick had gained something more valuable than money. He had studied regularly every evening, and his improvement had been marvellous. He could now read well, write a fair hand, and had studied arithmetic as far as Interest. Besides this he had obtained some knowledge of grammar and geography. If some of my boy readers, who have been studying for years, and got no farther than this, should think it incredible that Dick, in less than a year, and studying evenings only, should have accomplished it, they must remember that our hero was very much in earnest in his desire to improve. He knew that, in order to grow up respectable, he must be well advanced, and he was willing to work. But then the reader must not forget that Dick was naturally a smart boy. His street education had sharpened his faculties, and taught him to rely upon himself. He knew that it would take him a long time to reach the goal which he had set before him, and he had patience to keep on trying. He knew that he had only himself to depend upon, and he determined to make the most of himself,–a resolution which is the secret of success in nine cases out of ten.

“Dick,” said Fosdick, one evening, after they had completed their studies, “I think you’ll have to get another teacher soon.”

“Why?” asked Dick, in some surprise. “Have you been offered a more loocrative position?”

“No,” said Fosdick, “but I find I have taught you all I know myself. You are now as good a scholar as I am.”

“Is that true?” said Dick, eagerly, a flush of gratification coloring his brown cheek.

“Yes,” said Fosdick. “You’ve made wonderful progress. I propose, now that evening schools have begun, that we join one, and study together through the winter.”

“All right,” said Dick. “I’d be willin’ to go now; but when I first began to study I was ashamed to have anybody know that I was so ignorant. Do you really mean, Fosdick, that I know as much as you?”

“Yes, Dick, it’s true.”

“Then I’ve got you to thank for it,” said Dick, earnestly. “You’ve made me what I am.”

“And haven’t you paid me, Dick?”

“By payin’ the room-rent,” said Dick, impulsively. “What’s that? It isn’t half enough. I wish you’d take half my money; you deserve it.”

“Thank you, Dick, but you’re too generous. You’ve more than paid me. Who was it took my part when all the other boys imposed upon me? And who gave me money to buy clothes, and so got me my situation?”

“Oh, that’s nothing!” said Dick.

“It’s a great deal, Dick. I shall never forget it. But now it seems to me you might try to get a situation yourself.”

“Do I know enough?”

“You know as much as I do.”

“Then I’ll try,” said Dick, decidedly.

“I wish there was a place in our store,” said Fosdick. “It would be pleasant for us to be together.”

“Never mind,” said Dick; “there’ll be plenty of other chances. P’r’aps A. T. Stewart might like a partner. I wouldn’t ask more’n a quarter of the profits.”

“Which would be a very liberal proposal on your part,” said Fosdick, smiling. “But perhaps Mr. Stewart might object to a partner living on Mott Street.”

“I’d just as lieves move to Fifth Avenoo,” said Dick. “I aint got no prejudices in favor of Mott Street.”

“Nor I,” said Fosdick, “and in fact I have been thinking it might be a good plan for us to move as soon as we could afford. Mrs. Mooney doesn’t keep the room quite so neat as she might.”

“No,” said Dick. “She aint got no prejudices against dirt. Look at that towel.”

Dick held up the article indicated, which had now seen service nearly a week, and hard service at that,–Dick’s avocation causing him to be rather hard on towels.

“Yes,” said Fosdick, “I’ve got about tired of it. I guess we can find some better place without having to pay much more. When we move, you must let me pay my share of the rent.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Dick. “Do you propose to move to Fifth Avenoo?”

“Not just at present, but to some more agreeable neighborhood than this. We’ll wait till you get a situation, and then we can decide.”

A few days later, as Dick was looking about for customers in the neighborhood of the Park, his attention was drawn to a fellow boot-black, a boy about a year younger than himself, who appeared to have been crying.

“What’s the matter, Tom?” asked Dick. “Haven’t you had luck to-day?”

“Pretty good,” said the boy; “but we’re havin’ hard times at home. Mother fell last week and broke her arm, and to-morrow we’ve got to pay the rent, and if we don’t the landlord says he’ll turn us out.”

“Haven’t you got anything except what you earn?” asked Dick.

“No,” said Tom, “not now. Mother used to earn three or four dollars a week; but she can’t do nothin’ now, and my little sister and brother are too young.”

Dick had quick sympathies. He had been so poor himself, and obliged to submit to so many privations that he knew from personal experience how hard it was. Tom Wilkins he knew as an excellent boy who never squandered his money, but faithfully carried it home to his mother. In the days of his own extravagance and shiftlessness he had once or twice asked Tom to accompany him to the Old Bowery or Tony Pastor’s, but Tom had always steadily refused.

“I’m sorry for you, Tom,” he said. “How much do you owe for rent?”

“Two weeks now,” said Tom.

“How much is it a week?”

“Two dollars a week–that makes four.”

“Have you got anything towards it?”

“No; I’ve had to spend all my money for food for mother and the rest of us. I’ve had pretty hard work to do that. I don’t know what we’ll do. I haven’t any place to go to, and I’m afraid mother’ll get cold in her arm.”

“Can’t you borrow the money somewhere?” asked Dick.

Tom shook his head despondingly.

“All the people I know are as poor as I am,” said he. “They’d help me if they could, but it’s hard work for them to get along themselves.”

“I’ll tell you what, Tom,” said Dick, impulsively, “I’ll stand your friend.”

“Have you got any money?” asked Tom, doubtfully.

“Got any money!” repeated Dick. “Don’t you know that I run a bank on my own account? How much is it you need?”

“Four dollars,” said Tom. “If we don’t pay that before to-morrow night, out we go. You haven’t got as much as that, have you?”

“Here are three dollars,” said Dick, drawing out his pocket-book. “I’ll let you have the rest to-morrow, and maybe a little more.”

“You’re a right down good fellow, Dick,” said Tom; “but won’t you want it yourself?”

“Oh, I’ve got some more,” said Dick.

“Maybe I’ll never be able to pay you.”

“S’pose you don’t,” said Dick; “I guess I won’t fail.”

“I won’t forget it, Dick. I hope I’ll be able to do somethin’ for you sometime.”

“All right,” said Dick. “I’d ought to help you. I haven’t got no mother to look out for. I wish I had.”

There was a tinge of sadness in his tone, as he pronounced the last four words; but Dick’s temperament was sanguine, and he never gave way to unavailing sadness. Accordingly he began to whistle as he turned away, only adding, “I’ll see you to-morrow, Tom.”

The three dollars which Dick had handed to Tom Wilkins were his savings for the present week. It was now Thursday afternoon. His rent, which amounted to a dollar, he expected to save out of the earnings of Friday and Saturday. In order to give Tom the additional assistance he had promised, Dick would be obliged to have recourse to his bank-savings. He would not have ventured to trench upon it for any other reason but this. But he felt that it would be selfish to allow Tom and his mother to suffer when he had it in his power to relieve them. But Dick was destined to be surprised, and that in a disagreeable manner, when he reached home.


Preface  •  Chapter I. Ragged Dick Is Introduced to the Reader  •  Chapter II. Johnny Nolan  •  Chapter III. Dick Makes a Proposition  •  Chapter IV. Dick’s New Suit  •  Chapter V. Chatham Street and Broadway  •  Chapter VI. Up Broadway to Madison Square  •  Chapter VII. The Pocket-Book  •  Chapter VIII. Dick’s Early History  •  Chapter IX. A Scene in a Third Avenue Car  •  Chapter X. Introduces a Victim of Misplaced Confidence  •  Chapter XI. Dick As a Detective  •  Chapter XII. Dick Hires a Room On Mott Street  •  Chapter XIII. Micky Maguire  •  Chapter XIV. A Battle and a Victory  •  Chapter XV. Dick Secures a Tutor  •  Chapter XVI. The First Lesson  •  Chapter XVII. Dick’s First Appearance in Society  •  Chapter XVIII. Micky Maguire’s Second Defeat  •  Chapter XIX. Fosdick Changes His Business  •  Chapter XX. Nine Months Later  •  Chapter XXI. Dick Loses His Bank-Book  •  Chapter XXII. Tracking the Thief  •  Chapter XXIII. Travis Is Arrested  •  Chapter XXIV. Dick Receives a Letter  •  Chapter XXV. Dick Writes His First Letter  •  Chapter XXVI. An Exciting Adventure  •  Chapter XXVII. Conclusion

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By Horatio Alger
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