“I don’t know but I shall have to black boots all my life,” he said, one day, despondently, to Dick.
“Keep a stiff upper lip,” said Dick. “By the time you get to be a gray-headed veteran, you may get a chance to run errands for some big firm on the Bowery, which is a very cheerin’ reflection.”
So Dick by his drollery and perpetual good spirits kept up Fosdick’s courage.
“As for me,” said Dick, “I expect by that time to lay up a colossal fortun’ out of shines, and live in princely style on the Avenoo.”
But one morning, Fosdick, straying into French’s Hotel, discovered the following advertisement in the columns of “The Herald,”—
“WANTED—A smart, capable boy to run errands, and make himself generally useful in a hat and cap store. Salary three dollars a week at first. Inquire at No. — Broadway, after ten o’clock, A.M.”
He determined to make application, and, as the City Hall clock just then struck the hour indicated, lost no time in proceeding to the store, which was only a few blocks distant from the Astor House. It was easy to find the store, as from a dozen to twenty boys were already assembled in front of it. They surveyed each other askance, feeling that they were rivals, and mentally calculating each other’s chances.
“There isn’t much chance for me,” said Fosdick to Dick, who had accompanied him. “Look at all these boys. Most of them have good homes, I suppose, and good recommendations, while I have nobody to refer to.”
“Go ahead,” said Dick. “Your chance is as good as anybody’s.”
While this was passing between Dick and his companion, one of the boys, a rather supercilious-looking young gentleman, genteelly dressed, and evidently having a very high opinion of his dress and himself turned suddenly to Dick, and remarked,—