Going out into the fresh air di*k felt the pangs of hunger. He
accordingly went to a restaurant and got a substantial supper.
Perhaps it was the new clothes he wore, which made him feel a
little more aristocratic. At all events, instead of patronizing the
cheap restaurant where he usually procured his meals, he went into
the refectory attached to Lovejoy's Hotel, where the prices were
higher and the company more select. In his ordinary dress, di*k
would have been excluded, but now he had the appearance of a very
respectable, gentlemanly boy, whose presence would not discredit
any establishment. His orders were therefore received with attention
by the waiter and in due time a good supper was placed before him.
"I wish I could come here every day," thought di*k. "It seems kind
o' nice and 'spectable, side of the other place. There's a gent at
that other table that I've shined boots for more'n once. He don't
know me in my new clothes. Guess he don't know his boot-black
patronizes the same establishment."
His supper over, di*k went up to the desk, and, presenting his
check, tendered in payment his five-dollar bill, as if it were one
of a large number which he possessed. Receiving back his change he
went out into the street.
Two questions now arose: How should he spend the evening, and where
should he pass the night? Yesterday, with such a sum of money in his
possession, he would have answered both questions readily. For the
evening, he would have passed it at the Old Bowery, and gone to
sleep in any out-of-the-way place that offered. But he had turned
over a new leaf, or resolved to do so. He meant to save his money
for some useful purpose,--to aid his advancement in the world. So he
could not afford the theatre. Besides, with his new clothes, he was
unwilling to pass the night out of doors.
"I should spile 'em," he thought, "and that wouldn't pay."
So he determined to hunt up a room which he could occupy regularly,
and consider as his own, where he could sleep nights, instead of
depending on boxes and old wagons for a chance shelter. This would
be the first step towards respectability, and di*k determined to
take it.
He accordingly passed through the City Hall Park, and walked
leisurely up Centre Street.
He decided that it would hardly be advisable for him to seek
lodgings in Fifth Avenue, although his present cash capital
consisted of nearly five dollars in money, besides the valuable
papers contained in his wallet. Besides, he had reason to doubt
whether any in his line of business lived on that aristocratic
street. He took his way to Mott Street, which is considerably less
pretentious, and halted in front of a shabby brick lodging-house
kept by a Mrs. Mooney, with whose son Tom, di*k was acquainted.
di*k rang the bell, which sent back a shrill metallic response.
The door was opened by a slatternly servant, who looked at him
inquiringly, and not without curiosity. It must be remembered that
di*k was well dressed, and that nothing in his appearance bespoke
his occupation. Being naturally a good-looking boy, he might readily
be mistaken for a gentleman's son.
"Well, Queen Victoria," said di*k, "is your missus at home?"
"My name's Bridget," said the girl.
"Oh, indeed!" said di*k. "You looked so much like the queen's picter
what she gave me last Christmas in exchange for mine, that I
couldn't help calling you by her name."
"Oh, go along wid ye!" said Bridget. "It's makin' fun ye are."
"If you don't believe me," said di*k, gravely, "all you've got to do
is to ask my partic'lar friend, the Duke of Newcastle."
"Bridget!" called a shrill voice from the basement.
"The missus is calling me," said Bridget, hurriedly. "I'll tell her
ye want her."
"All right!" said di*k.
The servant descended into the lower regions, and in a short time a
stout, red-faced woman appeared on the scene.
"Well, sir, what's your wish?" she asked.
"Have you got a room to let?" asked di*k.
"Is it for yourself you ask?" questioned the woman, in some surprise.
di*k answered in the affirmative.
"I haven't got any very good rooms vacant. There's a small room in
the third story."
"I'd like to see it," said di*k.
"I don't know as it would be good enough for you," said the woman,
with a glance at di*k's clothes.
"I ain't very partic'lar about accommodations," said our hero. "I
guess I'll look at it."
di*k followed the landlady up two narrow stair-cases, uncarpeted
and dirty, to the third landing, where he was ushered into a room
about ten feet square. It could not be considered a very desirable
apartment. It had once been covered with an oilcloth carpet, but
this was now very ragged, and looked worse than none. There was a
single bed in the corner, covered with an indiscriminate heap of
bed-clothing, rumpled and not over-clean. There was a bureau, with
the veneering scratched and in some parts stripped off, and a small
glass, eight inches by ten, cracked across the middle; also two
chairs in rather a disjointed condition. Judging from di*k's
appearance, Mrs. Mooney thought he would turn from it in disdain.
But it must be remembered that di*k's past experience had not been
of a character to make him fastidious. In comparison with a box, or
an empty wagon, even this little room seemed comfortable. He decided
to hire it if the rent proved reasonable.
"Well, what's the tax?" asked di*k.
"I ought to have a dollar a week," said Mrs. Mooney, hesitatingly.
"Say seventy-five cents, and I'll take it," said di*k.
"Every week in advance?"
"Yes."
"Well, as times is hard, and I can't afford to keep it empty, you
may have it. When will you come?"
"To-night," said di*k.
"It ain't lookin' very neat. I don't know as I can fix it up
to-night."
"Well, I'll sleep here to-night, and you can fix it up to-morrow."
"I hope you'll excuse the looks. I'm a lone woman, and my help is so
shiftless, I have to look after everything myself; so I can't keep
things as straight as I want to."
"All right!" said di*k.
"Can you pay me the first week in advance?" asked the landlady,
cautiously.
di*k responded by drawing seventy-five cents from his pocket, and
placing it in her hand.
"What's your business, sir, if I may inquire?" said Mrs. Mooney.
""Oh, I'm professional!" said di*k.
"Indeed!" said the landlady, who did not feel much enlightened by
this answer.
"How's Tom?" asked di*k.
"Do you know my Tom?" said Mrs. Mooney in surprise. "He's gone to
sea,--to Californy. He went last week."
"Did he?" said di*k. "Yes, I knew him."
Mrs. Mooney looked upon her new lodger with increased favor, on
finding that he was acquainted with her son, who, by the way, was
one of the worst young scamps in Mott Street, which is saying
considerable.
"I'll bring over my baggage from the Astor House this evening," said
di*k in a tone of importance.
"From the Astor House!" repeated Mrs. Mooney, in fresh amazement.
"Yes, I've been stoppin' there a short time with some friends," said
di*k.
Mrs. Mooney might be excused for a little amazement at finding that
a guest from the Astor House was about to become one of her
lodgers--such transfers not being common.
"Did you say you was purfessional?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," said di*k, politely.
"You ain't a--a--" Mrs. Mooney paused, uncertain what conjecture to
hazard.
"Oh, no, nothing of the sort," said di*k, promptly. "How could you
think so, Mrs. Mooney?"
"No offence, sir," said the landlady, more perplexed than ever.
"Certainly not," said our hero. "But you must excuse me now, Mrs.
Mooney, as I have business of great importance to attend to."
"You'll come round this evening?"
di*k answered in the affirmative, and turned away.
"I wonder what he is!" thought the landlady, following him with her
eyes as he crossed the street. "He's got good clothes on, but he
don't seem very particular about his room. Well; I've got all my
rooms full now. That's one comfort."
di*k felt more comfortable now that he had taken the decisive step
of hiring a lodging, and paying a week's rent in advance. For seven
nights he was sure of a shelter and a bed to sleep in. The thought
was a pleasant one to our young vagrant, who hitherto had seldom
known when he rose in the morning where he should find a
resting-place at night.
"I must bring my traps round," said di*k to himself. "I guess I'll
go to bed early to-night. It'll feel kinder good to sleep in a
reg'lar bed. Boxes is rather hard to the back, and ain't comfortable
in case of rain. I wonder what Johnny Nolan would say if he knew I'd
got a room of my own."