Ragged Dick | Page 4

scarcely been served when he espied a boy about his own size
standing at the door, looking wistfully into the restaurant. This was
Johnny Nolan, a boy of fourteen, who was engaged in the same
profession as Ragged Dick. His wardrobe was in very much the same
condition as Dick's.
"Had your breakfast, Johnny?" inquired Dick, cutting off a piece of
steak.
"No."

"Come in, then. Here's room for you."
"I aint got no money," said Johnny, looking a little enviously at his
more fortunate friend.
"Haven't you had any shines?"
"Yes, I had one, but I shan't get any pay till to-morrow."
"Are you hungry?"
"Try me, and see."
"Come in. I'll stand treat this morning."
Johnny Nolan was nowise slow to accept this invitation, and was soon
seated beside Dick.
"What'll you have, Johnny?"
"Same as you."
"Cup o' coffee and beefsteak," ordered Dick.
These were promptly brought, and Johnny attacked them vigorously.
Now, in the boot-blacking business, as well as in higher avocations, the
same rule prevails, that energy and industry are rewarded, and
indolence suffers. Dick was energetic and on the alert for business, but
Johnny the reverse. The consequence was that Dick earned probably
three times as much as the other.
"How do you like it?" asked Dick, surveying Johnny's attacks upon the
steak with evident complacency.
"It's hunky."
I don't believe "hunky" is to be found in either Webster's or Worcester's
big dictionary; but boys will readily understand what it means.

"Do you come here often?" asked Johnny.
"Most every day. You'd better come too."
"I can't afford it."
"Well, you'd ought to, then," said Dick. "What do you do I'd like to
know?"
"I don't get near as much as you, Dick."
"Well you might if you tried. I keep my eyes open,--that's the way I get
jobs. You're lazy, that's what's the matter."
Johnny did not see fit to reply to this charge. Probably he felt the
justice of it, and preferred to proceed with the breakfast, which he
enjoyed the more as it cost him nothing.
Breakfast over, Dick walked up to the desk, and settled the bill. Then,
followed by Johnny, he went out into the street.
"Where are you going, Johnny?"
"Up to Mr. Taylor's, on Spruce Street, to see if he don't want a shine."
"Do you work for him reg'lar?"
"Yes. Him and his partner wants a shine most every day. Where are
you goin'?"
"Down front of the Astor House. I guess I'll find some customers
there."
At this moment Johnny started, and, dodging into an entry way, hid
behind the door, considerably to Dick's surprise.
"What's the matter now?" asked our hero.
"Has he gone?" asked Johnny, his voice betraying anxiety.

"Who gone, I'd like to know?"
"That man in the brown coat."
"What of him. You aint scared of him, are you?"
"Yes, he got me a place once."
"Where?"
"Ever so far off."
"What if he did?"
"I ran away."
"Didn't you like it?"
"No, I had to get up too early. It was on a farm, and I had to get up at
five to take care of the cows. I like New York best."
"Didn't they give you enough to eat?"
"Oh, yes, plenty."
"And you had a good bed?"
"Yes."
"Then you'd better have stayed. You don't get either of them here.
Where'd you sleep last night?"
"Up an alley in an old wagon."
"You had a better bed than that in the country, didn't you?"
"Yes, it was as soft as--as cotton."
Johnny had once slept on a bale of cotton, the recollection supplying

him with a comparison.
"Why didn't you stay?"
"I felt lonely," said Johnny.
Johnny could not exactly explain his feelings, but it is often the case
that the young vagabond of the streets, though his food is uncertain,
and his bed may be any old wagon or barrel that he is lucky enough to
find unoccupied when night sets in, gets so attached to his precarious
but independent mode of life, that he feels discontented in any other.
He is accustomed to the noise and bustle and ever-varied life of the
streets, and in the quiet scenes of the country misses the excitement in
the midst of which he has always dwelt.
Johnny had but one tie to bind him to the city. He had a father living,
but he might as well have been without one. Mr. Nolan was a
confirmed drunkard, and spent the greater part of his wages for liquor.
His potations made him ugly, and inflamed a temper never very sweet,
working him up sometimes to such a pitch of rage that Johnny's life
was in danger. Some months before, he had thrown a flat-iron at his
son's head with such terrific force that unless