“Then I could show you. You won’t be a boot-black all your life, you know.”
“No,” said Dick; “I’m goin’ to knock off when I get to be ninety.”
“Before that, I hope,” said Frank, smiling.
“I really wish I could get somethin’ else to do,” said Dick, soberly. “I’d like to be a office boy, and learn business, and grow up ’spectable.”
“Why don’t you try, and see if you can’t get a place, Dick?”
“Who’d take Ragged Dick?”
“But you aint ragged now, Dick.”
“No,” said Dick; “I look a little better than I did in my Washington coat and Louis Napoleon pants. But if I got in a office, they wouldn’t give me more’n three dollars a week, and I couldn’t live ’spectable on that.”
“No, I suppose not,” said Frank, thoughtfully. “But you would get more at the end of the first year.”
“Yes,” said Dick; “but by that time I’d be nothin’ but skin and bones.”