Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: DICK TRAINING THE HORSE.]
[Illustration: THE HAPPY HOME STORIES.]
DILIGENT DICK;
OR,
THE YOUNG FARMER.
BY AUNT HATTIE.
[MADELINE LESLIE]
"Seest thou a man diligent in his business? He shall
stand before kings; he shall not stand before
mean men."—Paul.
BOSTON:
YOUNG & BARTLETT,
26 SCHOOL STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
HENRY A. YOUNG & CO.,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
LIST
OF VOLUMES IN
THE HAPPY HOME STORIES.
FOR BOYS.
VOL. I. DILIGENT DICK.
VOL. II. COUSIN WILLIE.
VOL. III. LAZY ROBERT.
VOL. IV. LITTLE FRITZ.
VOL. V. THE NEW BUGGY.
VOL. VI. BERTIE AND HIS SISTERS.
LIST
OF VOLUMES IN
THE HAPPY HOME STORIES.
FOR GIRLS.
VOL. I. LITTLE FLYAWAY.
VOL. II. THE SPOILED PICTURE.
VOL. III. FLEDA'S CHILDHOOD.
VOL. IV. THE SINGING GIRL.
VOL. V. MOLLY AND THE WINE GLASS.
VOL. VI. THE TWINS.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. VISIT TO MR. JONES
CHAPTER II. DICK AT HOME
CHAPTER III. DICK AT SCHOOL
CHAPTER IV. DICK IN TROUBLE
CHAPTER V. DICK'S PUNISHMENT
CHAPTER VI. DICK'S ADVENTURE
CHAPTER VII. DICK'S STORY
CHAPTER VIII. DICK TAMING THE HORSE
CHAPTER IX. DICK AND THE DEACON
CHAPTER X. DICK'S VISIT TO MAINE
DILIGENT DICK.
CHAPTER I.
VISIT TO MR. JONES.
MR. JONES sat in his office on Pearl Street one of the hottest
afternoons in August, eighteen hundred and fifty-eight. His linen coat
was thrown on the back of his chair, his vest was loosened from top to
bottom, a pitcher of iced water stood convenient to his hand; but he
puffed and panted continually.
"This is terrible!" he said to Mr. Follinsby a gentlemen sitting
opposite, trying to lose the recollection of his discomfort in the
columns of the newspaper, "Terrible! Thermometer ninety-eight in the
shade. I pity the horses—"
"A boy to see you, Mr. Jones," said a clerk smiling.
"Ha! A boy is there? Well ask him in. Any body who ventures out in the
street under such a sun ought to have important business."
The gentlemen both looked toward the door, and were rather surprised to
see a little fellow, not more than twelve years of age, standing there,
with his straw hat in his hand. He had on what is called a French
shirt of some light material made loose with wide sleeves, to which
his pantaloons were attached, and a small ruffled collar round his
neck. Before he spoke a word, he took a handkerchief from his pocket,
and wiped the perspiration from his forehead, brushing back the heavy
mass of curls which had fallen there. The only parts of his countenance
which deserve particular notice at this time, were a pair of honest,
earnest, blue eyes, which looked straight, without fear or hesitation,
into the face of the one he addressed; and a small, well cut mouth,
which told, without his speaking, a whole story of the possessor's
sweetness of temper, and mirthfulness; and yet the manner of shutting
it proved that he had firmness too.
All this, which has taken so long to describe, only cost the two
gentlemen one searching glance; then the boy took two or three steps
forward, saying in a pleasant, respectful tone—
"I want to see Mr. Jones."
"That is Mr. Jones," remarked Mr. Follinsby, waving his hand toward the
gentleman.
"Are you the chairman of the Committee on decorating the St. Stevens'
church?"
This question was so wholly unexpected by Mr. Jones, who supposed the
boy had come to ask charity; or perhaps to seek a place as errand boy
in his store, that for one moment he did not answer, but sat eyeing the
lad with a perplexed smile, then he said:
"Hem! Yes, I'm the one."
"Have you engaged your evergreens for Christmas, sir?"
"For Christmas? Ha! Ha! Ha! We haven't begun to think of Christmas yet,
my little fellow."
"I want to engage the job, if you please. I'll supply the evergreen
as cheap as any body. I know, it's a good while before Christmas; but
mother says it's best to be in season when you're to do any thing."
He said all this in such a matter-of-fact way, as though he had been
used to business of the kind for years, that Mr. Jones, after a glance
at his friend, burst into a hearty laugh, in which the boy joined with
perfect good humor.
"What is your name?" was the next question.
"Richard Monroe Stuart, sir."
"How old are you?"
"Twelve last March."
"Have you ever decorated a church before?"
"No, sir; and I don't expect to decorate it this year. Mother says it
takes tall men with ladders, to do that. I only want to supply the
evergreens. I'll do it as cheap as any body, sir."
"Where do you live, Richard?"
"I live in Annesley, sir. They always call me Dick at home." He added
this with a smile, so full of humor that both the gentlemen laughed.
"Is your father living, Dick?"
"Oh, yes, sir! He is the minister in Annesley."
"And you are doing the business on your own account?"
"Yes, sir. One of our neighbors has a church in the city to decorate
every year; and he makes a good deal of money."
"I suppose your parents are willing you should do this; I mean that
they knew of your coming here?"
"Mother does, sir, of course. I never do any thing without telling her."
"Why not your father, too?"
"I want to surprise him. The people are poor; and so they can't give
much salary. If I get the job, I'm going to buy a new buffalo robe.
We've needed one for the sleigh a good while."
"Whew!" ejaculated Mr. Jones. "Will it ever be cold enough to need
buffaloes?"
Dick laughed aloud, mentally resolving to tell his mother what a very
pleasant man Mr. Jones was.
"I don't know what Mr. Jones will do," said Mr. Follinsby; "but if I
were the chairman of the Committee, you should have the job. I approve
of boys who tell their mothers every thing."
"Thank you, sir. There's one thing I haven't told mother yet. Last
spring our hod got broken. If I make enough I want to get her a new
one."
"That's a good boy. I guess you'll have enough besides the buffalo
robe. If you don't, it wont be a very profitable job. Shall you gather
the evergreen yourself?"
"Yes, sir, in the vacation at Thanksgiving. Mother says she thinks she
shall have time to help me wind it evenings; and then I can keep it
fresh down cellar. Do you think, Mr. Jones, I can get the job?"
"Come here the first of November, and I will tell you. Our church are
feeling rather poor this year; but if we decorate at all, you shall
supply the evergreens. Here is my card. Shall you remember?"
"Oh, yes, sir! I should remember you, and where you live, without any
card; but I'll take it if you please."
Mr. Follinsby put his hand in his pocket, and drew out his
porte-monnaie.
"Suppose, Dick," he said, "that I give you enough to buy a hod now.
It's inconvenient to do without one."
A flush of honest pride flew into Dick's checks, and even mounted to
his forehead.
"I'm much obliged to you, sir," he said very seriously; "but I'd rather
earn the money for it. Mother'd like it a great deal better. I'll be
sure to be back, sir, the first of November."
He made a bow which would not have disgraced a drawing room, and was
retiring when Mr. Jones held out his hand:
"Good bye, Dick," he said, "You've got a good mother, I'm sure."
"Yes, sir," the boy answered, his blue eyes dancing with pleasure.
"She's the best woman in the world." He held out his hand to Mr.
Follinsby, and said, "Thank you, sir," once more and went away.