Risen from the Ranks | Page 9

a corn-popper.
"Now we'll have a jolly time," said he. "Draw up that arm-chair, and
make yourself at home. If Xenophon, or Virgil, or any of those Greek
and Latin chaps call, we'll tell 'em we are transacting important

business and can't be disturbed. What do you say?"
"They won't be apt to call on me," said Harry. I haven't the pleasure of
knowing them."
"It isn't always a pleasure, I can assure you, Harry. Pass over the
corn-popper."
CHAPTER V.
A YOUNG F. F. B.
As the two boys sat in front of the fire, popping and eating the corn,
and chatting of one thing and another, their acquaintance improved
rapidly. Harry learned that Oscar's father was a Boston merchant, in the
Calcutta trade, with a counting-room on Long Wharf. Oscar was a year
older than himself, and the oldest child. He had a sister of thirteen,
named Florence, and a younger brother, Charlie, now ten. They lived
on Beacon Street, opposite the Common. Though Harry had never lived
in Boston, be knew that this was a fashionable street, and he had no
difficulty in inferring that Mr. Vincent was a rich man. He felt what a
wide gulf there was socially between himself and Oscar; one the son of
a very poor country farmer, the other the son of a merchant prince. But
nothing in Oscar's manner indicated the faintest feeling of superiority,
and this pleased Harry. I may as well say, however, that our hero was
not one to show any foolish subserviency to a richer boy; he thought
mainly of Oscar's superiority in knowledge; and although the latter was
far ahead of Harry on this score, he was not one to boast of it.
Harry, in return for Oscar's confidence, acquainted him with his own
adventures since he had started out to earn his own living. Oscar was
most interested in his apprenticeship to the ventriloquist.
"It must have been jolly fun," he said. "I shouldn't mind travelling
round with him myself. Can you perform any tricks?"
"A few," said Harry.

"Show me some, that's a good fellow."
"If you won't show others. Professor Henderson wouldn't like to have
his tricks generally known. I could show more if I had the articles he
uses. But I can do some without."
"Go ahead, Professor. I'm all attention."
Not having served an apprenticeship to a magician, as Harry did, I will
not undertake to describe the few simple tricks which he had picked up,
and now exhibited for the entertainment of his companion. It is enough
to say that they were quite satisfactory, and that Oscar professed his
intention to puzzle his Boston friends with them, when his vacation
arrived.
About half-past eight, a knock was heard at the door.
"Come in!" called out Oscar.
The door was opened, and a boy about his own age entered. His name
was Fitzgerald Fletcher. He was also a Boston boy, and the son of a
retail merchant, doing business on Washington street. His father lived
handsomely, and was supposed to be rich. At any rate Fitzgerald
supposed him to be so, and was very proud of the fact. He generally let
any new acquaintances understand very speedily that his father was a
man of property, and that his family moved in the first circles of Boston
Society. He cultivated the acquaintance of those boys who belonged to
rich families, and did not fail to show the superiority which he felt to
those of less abundant means. For example, he liked to be considered
intimate with Oscar, as the social position of Mr. Vincent was higher
than that of his own family. It gave him an excuse also for calling on
Oscar in Boston. He had tried to ingratiate himself also with Oscar's
sister Florence, but had only disgusted her with his airs, so that he
could not flatter himself with his success in this direction. Oscar had
very little liking for him, but as school-fellows they often met, and
Fitzgerald often called upon him. On such occasions he treated him
politely enough, for it was not in his nature to be rude without cause.

Fitz was elaborately dressed, feeling that handsome clothes would help
convey the impression of wealth, which he was anxious to establish. In
particular he paid attention to his neckties, of which he boasted a
greater variety than any of his school-mates. It was not a lofty ambition,
but, such as it was, he was able to gratify it.
"How are you, Fitz?" said Oscar, when he saw who was his visitor.
"Draw up a chair to the fire, and make yourself comfortable."
"Thank you, Oscar," said Fitzgerald, leisurely drawing off a pair of kid
gloves; "I thought I would drop in and see you."
"All right! Will you have