Fame and Fortune; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter. Alger Horatio Jr.

thanks for a favor so great that she can never hope to repay it."

      Now this acknowledgment was very pleasant to Dick, but it was also very embarrassing. It is difficult to receive praise gracefully. So our hero, not knowing what else to say, stammered out that she was very welcome.

      "I understand that you have entered my husband's employment," said Mrs. Rockwell.

      "Yes," said Dick. "He was kind enough to take me."

      "I hope to make a man of business of our young friend," said Mr. Rockwell. "He will soon feel at home in his new position, and I hope we may find the connection mutually satisfactory."

      "Have you a pleasant boarding-place?" asked Mrs. Rockwell.

      "Tip-top," said Dick. "I mean pretty good," he added, in a little confusion.

      "Where is it?"

      "In Bleecker Street," said Dick, very glad that he was not obliged to say Mott Street.

      "That is quite a good location," said Mr. Rockwell. "How do you spend your evenings, Richard?"

      "In studying with a friend of mine," said Dick. "I want to know something by the time I grow up."

      "That is an excellent resolution," said his employer, with warm approval. "I wish more boys of your age were equally sensible. You may depend upon it that a good education is the best preparation for an honorable and useful manhood. What is your friend's name?"

      "Henry Fosdick. He rooms with me."

      "I am glad you have a friend who shares your tastes. But perhaps you would like to renew your acquaintance with the young gentleman to whom you have rendered so great a service. Johnny has been allowed to stay up beyond his usual bedtime because you were coming. Johnny, come here!"

      Johnny rose from his blocks, and came to his mother's side. He was a pleasant-looking little fellow, with a pair of bright eyes, and round, plump cheeks. He looked shyly at Dick.

      "Did you ever see this young man?" asked his mother.

      "Yes," said Johnny.

      "When was it?"

      "When I was in the river," said Johnny. "He pulled me out."

      "Are you glad to see him?"

      "Yes," said Johnny. "What is his name?"

      "Dick," said our hero, who somehow could not help feeling, when called Richard, that some other boy was meant.

      "Won't you come and help me build a house?" asked little Johnny.

      Dick accepted the invitation with pleasure, feeling more at home with children than with older persons.

      "This is sister Grace," said Johnny, with an offhand introduction.

      "I saw you on the boat," said Dick.

      "Yes," said Grace, "I was there. Oh, how frightened I was when Johnny fell into the water! I don't see how you dared to jump in after him."

      "Oh, I've been in swimming many a time. I don't mind it," said Dick.

      "I s'pose you're used to it, like the fishes," said Johnny. "I'm glad I'm not a fish. I shouldn't like to live in the water."

      "I don't think I should, either," said Dick. "Now, what do you think the fishes do when it rains?"

      "I do not know."

      "They go down to the bottom of the sea to get out of the wet."

      "Isn't it wet down at the bottom of the sea?" asked Johnny, in good faith.

      "Of course it is, you little goose," said Grace, with an air of superior wisdom.

      "Will you make me a house?" said Johnny.

      "What kind of a house do you want?" said Dick, seating himself on the carpet, and taking up the blocks.

      "Any kind," said Johnny.

      Dick, beginning to feel quite at home with the children, erected an imposing-looking house, leaving little spaces for the doors and windows.

      "That's better than the house Grace made," said Johnny, looking at it with complacency.

      "But it won't last very long," said Dick. "You'd better sell it before it tumbles over."

      "Do you own any houses?" asked Johnny.

      "Not many," said Dick, smiling.

      "My father owns this house," said Johnny, positively. "He paid fifty dollars for it."

      "I didn't think houses were so cheap," said Dick. "I'd like to buy one at that price."

      "You're a little goose, Johnny," said Grace. "He gave as much as five hundred dollars."

      "Grace doesn't know much more about the price of real estate than Johnny," said Mr. Rockwell.

      "Didn't the house cost as much as five hundred dollars?" asked Grace.

      "As much as that certainly, my dear."

      Just then, by an unguarded movement of Johnny's foot, the edifice of blocks reared by Dick became a confused ruin.

      "I've got tired of building houses," he announced, "Won't you tell me a story, Dick?"

      "I don't think I know any," said our hero.

      "Here is a book of pictures," said his mother, bringing one from the table. "Perhaps your new friend will show them to you."

      Dick took the book, and felt very glad that he had learned to read. Otherwise he might have been considerably embarrassed.

      The children asked a great many questions of Dick about the pictures, some of which he could not answer. Johnny, on being shown the picture of a Turkish mosque, asked if that was the place where the turkeys went to church.

      "If there was any place for a goose to go to church, you'd go there," said his sister.

      "I aint a goose any more than you are," said Johnny, indignantly; "am I, Dick?"

      Just then the servant came in to carry the children to bed, and, considerably against their wishes, they were obliged to withdraw.

      "Come again, Dick," said Johnny.

      "Thank you," said Dick. "Good-night."

      "Good-night," said the two children, and the door closed upon them.

      "I think I'll be going," said Dick, who did not feel quite so much at ease, now that his young friends had left him.

      "Wait a few minutes," said Mrs. Rockwell.

      She rang the bell, and a servant brought up some cake and apples, of which Dick was invited to partake.

      I need not detail the conversation; but Mrs. Rockwell, with the tact of a genuine lady, managed to draw out Dick, and put him quite at his ease.

      "How old are you, Richard?" she asked.

      "Fifteen," said Dick; "goin' on sixteen."

      "You are getting to be quite a young man,—old enough to wear a watch. Have you one?"

      "No," said Dick, not suspecting the motive that led to her question.

      "Will you allow me the pleasure of supplying the deficiency?" said Mrs. Rockwell.