“Nobody ever talked to me so before,” said Dick. “They just called me Ragged Dick, and told me I’d grow up to be a vagabone (boys who are better educated need not be surprised at Dick’s blunders) and come to the gallows.”
“Telling you so won’t make it turn out so, Dick. If you’ll try to be somebody, and grow up into a respectable member of society, you will. You may not become rich,—it isn’t everybody that becomes rich, you know—but you can obtain a good position, and be respected.”
“I’ll try,” said Dick, earnestly. “I needn’t have been Ragged Dick so long if I hadn’t spent my money in goin’ to the theatre, and treatin’ boys to oyster-stews, and bettin’ money on cards, and such like.”
“Have you lost money that way?”
“Lots of it. One time I saved up five dollars to buy me a new rig-out, cos my best suit was all in rags, when Limpy Jim wanted me to play a game with him.”
“Limpy Jim?” said Frank, interrogatively.
“Yes, he’s lame; that’s what makes us call him Limpy Jim.”
“I suppose you lost?”
“Yes, I lost every penny, and had to sleep out, cos I hadn’t a cent to pay for lodgin’. ’Twas a awful cold night, and I got most froze.”
“Wouldn’t Jim let you have any of the money he had won to pay for a lodging?”