When the dance was over, and Dick was leading Ida to her seat, a surprise awaited him. A boy came forward hastily, and said in a tone blending amazement with gratification, "Is it possible that this is Dick Hunter?"
"Frank Whitney!" exclaimed Dick, clasping his hand cordially. "How came you here?"
"Just the question I was going to ask you, Dick. But I'll answer first. I am spending a few days with some cousins in Thirty-Seventh Street. They are friends of the Greysons, and were invited here this evening, and I with them. I little dreamed of meeting you here. I must say, Dick, you seem quite at home."
"Mr. Greyson has been a kind friend of mine," said Dick, "and I've met Ida quite often. But I felt a little nervous about coming to this party. I was afraid I'd be like a cat in a strange garret."
"You're a wonderful boy, Dick. You look as if you had been used to such scenes all your life. I can hardly believe you're the same boy I met in front of the Astor House a little more than a year ago."
"If I'm changed, it's because of what you said to me then, you and your father. But for those words I might still have been Ragged Dick."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Dick; but, for all that, a great deal of credit is due to yourself."
"I've worked hard," said Dick, "because I felt that I had something to work for. When are you going to enter college?"
"I expect to apply for admission in about two months."
"At Columbia College?"