Ragged Dick Part 6

"It reminds me of Cinderella," said d.i.c.k, "when she was changed into a fairy princess. I see it one night at Barnum's. What'll Johnny Nolan say when he sees me? He won't dare to speak to such a young swell as I be now. Aint it rich?" and d.i.c.k burst into a loud laugh.

His fancy was tickled by the antic.i.p.ation of his friend's surprise.

Then the thought of the valuable gifts he had received occurred to him, and he looked gratefully at Frank.

"You're a brick," he said.

"A what?"

"A brick! You're a jolly good fellow to give me such a present."

"You're quite welcome, d.i.c.k," said Frank, kindly. "I'm better off than you are, and I can spare the clothes just as well as not. You must have a new hat though. But that we can get when we go out. The old clothes you can make into a bundle."

"Wait a minute till I get my handkercher," and d.i.c.k pulled from the pocket of the pants a dirty rag, which might have been white once, though it did not look like it, and had apparently once formed a part of a sheet or s.h.i.+rt.

"You mustn't carry that," said Frank.

"But I've got a cold," said d.i.c.k.

"Oh, I don't mean you to go without a handkerchief. I'll give you one."

Frank opened his trunk and pulled out two, which he gave to d.i.c.k.

"I wonder if I aint dreamin'," said d.i.c.k, once more surveying himself doubtfully in the gla.s.s. "I'm afraid I'm dreamin', and shall wake up in a barrel, as I did night afore last."

"Shall I pinch you so you can wake here?" asked Frank, playfully.

"Yes," said d.i.c.k, seriously, "I wish you would."

He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, and Frank pinched him pretty hard, so that d.i.c.k winced.

"Yes, I guess I'm awake," said d.i.c.k; "you've got a pair of nippers, you have. But what shall I do with my brush and blacking?" he asked.

"You can leave them here till we come back," said Frank. "They will be safe."

"Hold on a minute," said d.i.c.k, surveying Frank's boots with a professional eye, "you aint got a good s.h.i.+ne on them boots. I'll make 'em s.h.i.+ne so you can see your face in 'em."

And he was as good as his word.

"Thank you," said Frank; "now you had better brush your own shoes."

This had not occurred to d.i.c.k, for in general the professional boot-black considers his blacking too valuable to expend on his own shoes or boots, if he is fortunate enough to possess a pair.

The two boys now went downstairs together. They met the same servant who had spoken to d.i.c.k a few minutes before, but there was no recognition.

"He don't know me," said d.i.c.k. "He thinks I'm a young swell like you."

"What's a swell?"

"Oh, a feller that wears n.o.bby clothes like you."

"And you, too, d.i.c.k."

"Yes," said d.i.c.k, "who'd ever have thought as I should have turned into a swell?"

They had now got out on Broadway, and were slowly walking along the west side by the Park, when who should d.i.c.k see in front of him, but Johnny Nolan?

Instantly d.i.c.k was seized with a fancy for witnessing Johnny's amazement at his change in appearance. He stole up behind him, and struck him on the back.

"Hallo, Johnny, how many s.h.i.+nes have you had?"

Johnny turned round expecting to see d.i.c.k, whose voice he recognized, but his astonished eyes rested on a nicely dressed boy (the hat alone excepted) who looked indeed like d.i.c.k, but so transformed in dress that it was difficult to be sure of his ident.i.ty.

"What luck, Johnny?" repeated d.i.c.k.

Johnny surveyed him from head to foot in great bewilderment.

"Who be you?" he said.

"Well, that's a good one," laughed d.i.c.k; "so you don't know d.i.c.k?"

"Where'd you get all them clothes?" asked Johnny. "Have you been stealin'?"

"Say that again, and I'll lick you. No, I've lent my clothes to a young feller as was goin' to a party, and didn't have none fit to wear, and so I put on my second-best for a change."

Without deigning any further explanation, d.i.c.k went off, followed by the astonished gaze of Johnny Nolan, who could not quite make up his mind whether the neat-looking boy he had been talking with was really Ragged d.i.c.k or not.

In order to reach Chatham Street it was necessary to cross Broadway.

This was easier proposed than done. There is always such a throng of omnibuses, drays, carriages, and vehicles of all kinds in the neighborhood of the Astor House, that the crossing is formidable to one who is not used to it. d.i.c.k made nothing of it, dodging in and out among the horses and wagons with perfect self-possession.

Reaching the opposite sidewalk, he looked back, and found that Frank had retreated in dismay, and that the width of the street was between them.

"Come across!" called out d.i.c.k.

"I don't see any chance," said Frank, looking anxiously at the prospect before him. "I'm afraid of being run over."

"If you are, you can sue 'em for damages," said d.i.c.k.

Finally Frank got safely over after several narrow escapes, as he considered them.

"Is it always so crowded?" he asked.

"A good deal worse sometimes," said d.i.c.k. "I knowed a young man once who waited six hours for a chance to cross, and at last got run over by an omnibus, leaving a widder and a large family of orphan children. His widder, a beautiful young woman, was obliged to start a peanut and apple stand. There she is now."

"Where?"

d.i.c.k pointed to a hideous old woman, of large proportions, wearing a bonnet of immense size, who presided over an apple-stand close by.

Frank laughed.

"If that is the case," he said, "I think I will patronize her."