If
father hadn't lost that money he would have left me well off; but no
money would have made up his loss to me."
"What's the man's name that went off with your father's money?"
"His name is Hiram Bates."
"P'r'aps you'll get the money again, sometime."
"There isn't much chance of it," said Fosdick. "I'd sell out my
chances of that for five dollars."
"Maybe I'll buy you out sometime," said Dick. "Now, come round and
see what sort of a room I've got. I used to go to the theatre
evenings, when I had money; but now I'd rather go to bed early, and
have a good sleep."
"I don't care much about theatres," said Fosdick. "Father didn't use
to let me go very often. He said it wasn't good for boys."
"I like to go to the Old Bowery sometimes. They have tip-top plays
there. Can you read and write well?" he asked, as a sudden thought
came to him.
"Yes," said Fosdick. "Father always kept me at school when he was
alive, and I stood pretty well in my classes. I was expecting to
enter at the Free Academy* next year."
* Now the college of the city of New York.
"Then I'll tell you what," said Dick; "I'll make a bargain with you.
I can't read much more'n a pig; and my writin' looks like hens'
tracks. I don't want to grow up knowin' no more'n a four-year-old
boy. If you'll teach me readin' and writin' evenin's, you shall
sleep in my room every night. That'll be better'n door-steps or old
boxes, where I've slept many a time.
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