"How do you happen to be here?"
"I am applying for a place, sir," said Fosdick. "May I refer the
gentleman to you?"
"Certainly, I shall be glad to speak a good word for you. Mr.
Henderson, this is a member of my Sunday-school class, of whose good
qualities and good abilities I can speak confidently."
"That will be sufficient," said the shop-keeper, who knew Mr.
Greyson's high character and position. "He could have no better
recommendation. You may come to the store to-morrow morning at half
past seven o'clock. The pay will be three dollars a week for the
first six months. If I am satisfied with you, I shall then raise
it to five dollars."
The other boys looked disappointed, but none more so than Roswell
Crawford. He would have cared less if any one else had obtained the
situation; but for a boy who lived in Mott Street to be preferred
to him, a gentleman's son, he considered indeed humiliating. In a
spirit of petty spite, he was tempted to say,
"He's a boot-black. Ask him if he isn't."
"He's an honest and intelligent lad," said Mr. Greyson. "As for you,
young man, I only hope you have one-half his good qualities."
Roswell Crawford left the store in disgust, and the other
unsuccessful applicants with him.
"What luck, Fosdick?" asked Dick, eagerly, as his friend came out of
the store.
"I've got the place," said Fosdick, in accents of satisfaction; "but
it was only because Mr.
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