DICK’S NEW SUIT
“Now,” said Mr. Whitney to Dick, “my nephew here is on his way to a
boarding-school. He has a suit of clothes in his trunk about half worn.
He is willing to give them to you. I think they will look better than
those you have on.”
Dick was so astonished that he hardly knew what to say. Presents were
something that he knew very little about, never having received any to
his knowledge. That so large a gift should be made to him by a stranger
seemed very wonderful.
The clothes were brought out, and turned out to be a neat gray suit.
“Before you put them on, my lad, you must wash yourself. Clean clothes
and a dirty skin don’t go very well together. Frank, you may attend to
him. I am obliged to go at once. Have you got as much money as you
require?”
“Yes, uncle.”
“One more word, my lad,” said Mr. Whitney, addressing Dick; “I may be
rash in trusting a boy of whom I know nothing, but I like your looks,
and I think you will prove a proper guide for my nephew.”
“Yes, I will, sir,” said Dick, earnestly. “Honor bright!”
“Very well. A pleasant time to you.”
The process of cleansing commenced. To tell the truth Dick needed it,
and the sensation of cleanliness he found both new and pleasant. Frank
added to his gift a shirt, stockings, and an old pair of shoes. “I am
sorry I haven’t any cap,” said he.
“I’ve got one,” said Dick.
“It isn’t so new as it might be,” said Frank, surveying an old felt
hat, which had once been black, but was now dingy, with a large hole in
the top and a portion of the rim torn off.
“No,” said Dick; “my grandfather used to wear it when he was a boy, and
I’ve kep’ it ever since out of respect for his memory. But I’ll get a
new one now. I can buy one cheap on Chatham Street.”
“Is that near here?”
“Only five minutes’ walk.”
“Then we can get one on the way.”
When Dick was dressed in his new attire, with his face and hands clean,
and his hair brushed, it was difficult to imagine that he was the same
boy.
He now looked quite handsome, and might readily have been taken for a
young gentleman, except that his hands were red and grimy.
“Look at yourself,” said Frank, leading him before the mirror.
“By gracious!” said Dick, starting back in astonishment, “that isn’t
me, is it?”
“Don’t you know yourself?” asked Frank, smiling.
“It reminds me of Cinderella,” said Dick, “when she was changed into a
fairy princess. I see it one night at Barnum’s. What’ll Johnny Nolan
say when he sees me? He won’t dare to speak to such a young swell as I
be now. Aint it rich?” and Dick burst into a loud laugh. His fancy was
tickled by the anticipation of his friend’s surprise. Then the thought
of the valuable gifts he had received occurred to him, and he looked
gratefully at Frank.
“You’re a brick,” he said.
“A what?”
“A brick! You’re a jolly good fellow to give me such a present.”
“You’re quite welcome, Dick,” said Frank, kindly. “I’m better off than
you are, and I can spare the clothes just as well as not. You must have
a new hat though. But that we can get when we go out. The old clothes
you can make into a bundle.”
“Wait a minute till I get my handkercher,” and Dick pulled from the
pocket of the pants a dirty rag, which might have been white once,
though it did not look like it, and had apparently once formed a part
of a sheet or shirt.
“You mustn’t carry that,” said Frank.
“But I’ve got a cold,” said Dick.
“Oh, I don’t mean you to go without a handkerchief. I’ll give you one.”
Frank opened his trunk and pulled out two, which he gave to Dick.
“I wonder if I aint dreamin’,” said Dick, once more surveying himself
doubtfully in the glass. “I’m afraid I’m dreamin’, and shall wake up in
a barrel, as I did night afore last.”
“Shall I pinch you so you can wake here?” asked Frank, playfully.
“Yes,” said Dick, seriously, “I wish you would.”
He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, and Frank pinched him pretty
hard, so that Dick winced.
“Yes, I guess I’m awake,” said Dick; “you’ve got a pair of nippers, you
have. But what shall I do with my brush and blacking?” he asked.
“You can leave them here till we come back,” said Frank. “They will be
safe.”
“Hold on a minute,” said Dick, surveying Frank’s boots with a
professional eye, “you aint got a good shine on them boots. I’ll make
’em shine so you can see your face in ’em.”
And he was as good as his word.
“Thank you,” said Frank; “now you had better brush your own shoes.”
This had not occurred to Dick, for in general the professional
boot-black considers his blacking too valuable to expend on his own
shoes or boots, if he is fortunate enough to possess a pair.
The two boys now went downstairs together. They met the same servant
who had spoken to Dick a few minutes before, but there was no
recognition.
“He don’t know me,” said Dick. “He thinks I’m a young swell like you.”
“What’s a swell?”
“Oh, a feller that wears nobby clothes like you.”
“And you, too, Dick.”
“Yes,” said Dick, “who’d ever have thought as I should have turned into
a swell?”
They had now got out on Broadway, and were slowly walking along the
west side by the Park, when who should Dick see in front of him, but
Johnny Nolan?
Instantly Dick was seized with a fancy for witnessing Johnny’s
amazement at his change in appearance. He stole up behind him, and
struck him on the back.
“Hallo, Johnny, how many shines have you had?”
Johnny turned round expecting to see Dick, whose voice he recognized,
but his astonished eyes rested on a nicely dressed boy (the hat alone
excepted) who looked indeed like Dick, but so transformed in dress that
it was difficult to be sure of his identity.
“What luck, Johnny?” repeated Dick.
Johnny surveyed him from head to foot in great bewilderment.
“Who be you?” he said.
“Well, that’s a good one,” laughed Dick; “so you don’t know Dick?”
“Where’d you get all them clothes?” asked Johnny. “Have you been
stealin’?”
“Say that again, and I’ll lick you. No, I’ve lent my clothes to a young
feller as was goin’ to a party, and didn’t have none fit to wear, and
so I put on my second-best for a change.”
Without deigning any further explanation, Dick went off, followed by
the astonished gaze of Johnny Nolan, who could not quite make up his
mind whether the neat-looking boy he had been talking with was really
Ragged Dick or not.
In order to reach Chatham Street it was necessary to cross Broadway.
This was easier proposed than done. There is always such a throng of
omnibuses, drays, carriages, and vehicles of all kinds in the
neighborhood of the Astor House, that the crossing is formidable to one
who is not used to it. Dick made nothing of it, dodging in and out
among the horses and wagons with perfect self-possession. Reaching the
opposite sidewalk, he looked back, and found that Frank had retreated
in dismay, and that the width of the street was between them.
“Come across!” called out Dick.
“I don’t see any chance,” said Frank, looking anxiously at the prospect
before him. “I’m afraid of being run over.”
“If you are, you can sue ’em for damages,” said Dick.
Finally Frank got safely over after several narrow escapes, as he
considered them.
“Is it always so crowded?” he asked.
“A good deal worse sometimes,” said Dick. “I knowed a young man once
who waited six hours for a chance to cross, and at last got run over by
an omnibus, leaving a widder and a large family of orphan children. His
widder, a beautiful young woman, was obliged to start a peanut and
apple stand. There she is now.”
“Where?”
Dick pointed to a hideous old woman, of large proportions, wearing a
bonnet of immense size, who presided over an apple-stand close by.
Frank laughed.
“If that is the case,” he said, “I think I will patronize her.”
“Leave it to me,” said Dick, winking.
He advanced gravely to the apple-stand, and said, “Old lady, have you
paid your taxes?”
The astonished woman opened her eyes.
“I’m a gov’ment officer,” said Dick, “sent by the mayor to collect your
taxes. I’ll take it in apples just to oblige. That big red one will
about pay what you’re owin’ to the gov’ment.”
“I don’t know nothing about no taxes,” said the old woman, in
bewilderment.
“Then,” said Dick, “I’ll let you off this time. Give us two of your
best apples, and my friend here, the President of the Common Council,
will pay you.”
Frank smiling, paid three cents apiece for the apples, and they
sauntered on, Dick remarking, “If these apples aint good, old lady,
we’ll return ’em, and get our money back.” This would have been rather
difficult in his case, as the apple was already half consumed.
Chatham Street, where they wished to go, being on the East side, the
two boys crossed the Park. This is an enclosure of about ten acres,
which years ago was covered with a green sward, but is now a great
thoroughfare for pedestrians and contains several important public
buildings. Dick pointed out the City Hall, the Hall of Records, and the
Rotunda. The former is a white building of large size, and surmounted
by a cupola.
“That’s where the mayor’s office is,” said Dick. “Him and me are very
good friends. I once blacked his boots by partic’lar appointment.
That’s the way I pay my city taxes.”