"
After a little more conversation they sat down to dinner. Dick
seated himself in an embarrassed way. He was very much afraid of
doing or saying something which would be considered an impropriety,
and had the uncomfortable feeling that everybody was looking at him,
and watching his behavior.
"Where do you live, Dick?" asked Ida, familiarly.
"In Mott Street."
"Where is that?"
"More than a mile off."
"Is it a nice street?"
"Not very," said Dick. "Only poor folks live there."
"Are you poor?"
"Little girls should be seen and not heard," said her mother, gently.
"If you are," said Ida, "I'll give you the five-dollar gold-piece
aunt gave me for a birthday present."
"Dick cannot be called poor, my child," said Mrs. Greyson, "since he
earns his living by his own exertions."
"Do you earn your living?" asked Ida, who was a very inquisitive
young lady, and not easily silenced. "What do you do?"
Dick blushed violently. At such a table, and in presence of the
servant who was standing at that moment behind his chair, he did not
like to say that he was a shoe-black, although he well knew that
there was nothing dishonorable in the occupation.
Mr. Greyson perceived his feelings, and to spare them, said, "You
are too inquisitive, Ida. Sometime Dick may tell you, but you know
we don't talk of business on Sundays."
Dick in his embarrassment had swallowed a large spoonful of hot
soup, which made him turn red in the face.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127