“Yes,” said Dick, “I aint knocked round the city streets all my life for nothin’.”
CHAPTER VIII.
DICK’S EARLY HISTORY
“Have you always lived in New York, Dick?” asked Frank, after a pause.
“Ever since I can remember.”
“I wish you’d tell me a little about yourself. Have you got any father or mother?”
“I aint got no mother. She died when I wasn’t but three years old. My father went to sea; but he went off before mother died, and nothin’ was ever heard of him. I expect he got wrecked, or died at sea.”
“And what became of you when your mother died?”
“The folks she boarded with took care of me, but they was poor, and they couldn’t do much. When I was seven the woman died, and her husband went out West, and then I had to scratch for myself.”
“At seven years old!” exclaimed Frank, in amazement.
“Yes,” said Dick, “I was a little feller to take care of myself, but,” he continued with pardonable pride, “I did it.”