Whitney.
"How much does that make, the lot of it?" asked Dick. "I aint much
on figgers yet, you know."
"It makes twenty-five dollars and thirty-five cents, Dick," said his
companion, who did not understand the thought which suggested the
question.
"Take it, and buy some clothes, Henry," said Dick, shortly.
"What, your money too?"
"In course."
"No, Dick, you are too generous. I couldn't think of it. Almost
three-quarters of the money is yours. You must spend it on
yourself."
"I don't need it," said Dick.
"You may not need it now, but you will some time."
"I shall have some more then."
"That may be; but it wouldn't be fair for me to use your money,
Dick. I thank you all the same for your kindness."
"Well, I'll lend it to you, then," persisted Dick, "and you can pay
me when you get to be a rich merchant."
"But it isn't likely I ever shall be one."
"How d'you know? I went to a fortun' teller once, and she told me I
was born under a lucky star with a hard name, and I should have a
rich man for my particular friend, who would make my fortun'. I
guess you are going to be the rich man."
Fosdick laughed, and steadily refused for some time to avail himself
of Dick's generous proposal; but at length, perceiving that our hero
seemed much disappointed, and would be really glad if his offer were
accepted, he agreed to use as much as might be needful.
This at once brought back Dick's good-humor, and he entered
with great enthusiasm into his friend's plans.
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