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Ebook has 384 lines and 13669 words, and 8 pages

DILIGENT DICK.

VISIT TO MR. JONES.

MR. JONES sat in his office on Pearl Street one of the hottest afternoons in August, eighteen hundred and fifty-eight. His linen coat was thrown on the back of his chair, his vest was loosened from top to bottom, a pitcher of iced water stood convenient to his hand; but he puffed and panted continually.

"This is terrible!" he said to Mr. Follinsby a gentlemen sitting opposite, trying to lose the recollection of his discomfort in the columns of the newspaper, "Terrible! Thermometer ninety-eight in the shade. I pity the horses--"

"A boy to see you, Mr. Jones," said a clerk smiling.

"Ha! A boy is there? Well ask him in. Any body who ventures out in the street under such a sun ought to have important business."

The gentlemen both looked toward the door, and were rather surprised to see a little fellow, not more than twelve years of age, standing there, with his straw hat in his hand. He had on what is called a French shirt of some light material made loose with wide sleeves, to which his pantaloons were attached, and a small ruffled collar round his neck. Before he spoke a word, he took a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead, brushing back the heavy mass of curls which had fallen there. The only parts of his countenance which deserve particular notice at this time, were a pair of honest, earnest, blue eyes, which looked straight, without fear or hesitation, into the face of the one he addressed; and a small, well cut mouth, which told, without his speaking, a whole story of the possessor's sweetness of temper, and mirthfulness; and yet the manner of shutting it proved that he had firmness too.

All this, which has taken so long to describe, only cost the two gentlemen one searching glance; then the boy took two or three steps forward, saying in a pleasant, respectful tone--

"I want to see Mr. Jones."

"That is Mr. Jones," remarked Mr. Follinsby, waving his hand toward the gentleman.

"Are you the chairman of the Committee on decorating the St. Stevens' church?"

This question was so wholly unexpected by Mr. Jones, who supposed the boy had come to ask charity; or perhaps to seek a place as errand boy in his store, that for one moment he did not answer, but sat eyeing the lad with a perplexed smile, then he said:

"Hem! Yes, I'm the one."

"Have you engaged your evergreens for Christmas, sir?"

"For Christmas? Ha! Ha! Ha! We haven't begun to think of Christmas yet, my little fellow."

"I want to engage the job, if you please. I'll supply the evergreen as cheap as any body. I know, it's a good while before Christmas; but mother says it's best to be in season when you're to do any thing."

He said all this in such a matter-of-fact way, as though he had been used to business of the kind for years, that Mr. Jones, after a glance at his friend, burst into a hearty laugh, in which the boy joined with perfect good humor.

"What is your name?" was the next question.

"Richard Monroe Stuart, sir."

"How old are you?"

"Twelve last March."

"Have you ever decorated a church before?"

"No, sir; and I don't expect to decorate it this year. Mother says it takes tall men with ladders, to do that. I only want to supply the evergreens. I'll do it as cheap as any body, sir."

"Where do you live, Richard?"

"I live in Annesley, sir. They always call me Dick at home." He added this with a smile, so full of humor that both the gentlemen laughed.

"Is your father living, Dick?"

"Oh, yes, sir! He is the minister in Annesley."

"And you are doing the business on your own account?"

"Yes, sir. One of our neighbors has a church in the city to decorate every year; and he makes a good deal of money."

"I suppose your parents are willing you should do this; I mean that they knew of your coming here?"

"Mother does, sir, of course. I never do any thing without telling her."

"Why not your father, too?"

"I want to surprise him. The people are poor; and so they can't give much salary. If I get the job, I'm going to buy a new buffalo robe. We've needed one for the sleigh a good while."

"Whew!" ejaculated Mr. Jones. "Will it ever be cold enough to need buffaloes?"

Dick laughed aloud, mentally resolving to tell his mother what a very pleasant man Mr. Jones was.

"I don't know what Mr. Jones will do," said Mr. Follinsby; "but if I were the chairman of the Committee, you should have the job. I approve of boys who tell their mothers every thing."

"Thank you, sir. There's one thing I haven't told mother yet. Last spring our hod got broken. If I make enough I want to get her a new one."

"That's a good boy. I guess you'll have enough besides the buffalo robe. If you don't, it wont be a very profitable job. Shall you gather the evergreen yourself?"

"Yes, sir, in the vacation at Thanksgiving. Mother says she thinks she shall have time to help me wind it evenings; and then I can keep it fresh down cellar. Do you think, Mr. Jones, I can get the job?"

"Come here the first of November, and I will tell you. Our church are feeling rather poor this year; but if we decorate at all, you shall supply the evergreens. Here is my card. Shall you remember?"

"Oh, yes, sir! I should remember you, and where you live, without any card; but I'll take it if you please."

Mr. Follinsby put his hand in his pocket, and drew out his porte-monnaie.

"Suppose, Dick," he said, "that I give you enough to buy a hod now. It's inconvenient to do without one."

A flush of honest pride flew into Dick's checks, and even mounted to his forehead.

"I'm much obliged to you, sir," he said very seriously; "but I'd rather earn the money for it. Mother'd like it a great deal better. I'll be sure to be back, sir, the first of November."

He made a bow which would not have disgraced a drawing room, and was retiring when Mr. Jones held out his hand:

"Good bye, Dick," he said, "You've got a good mother, I'm sure."

"Yes, sir," the boy answered, his blue eyes dancing with pleasure. "She's the best woman in the world." He held out his hand to Mr. Follinsby, and said, "Thank you, sir," once more and went away.

DICK AT HOME.

"I'D give a hundred dollars if my boy had been here to see Dick," said Mr. Follinsby. "He'll make his mark in the world. He's got the true grit."

"I'd give ten thousand if I had one like him," said the other. "The idea of Christmas decorations on this hot day!" And he ha-ha'd, till the ceiling rang with his mirth.

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