It may be stated that he afterwards saw them
adorning the figure of Micky Maguire; but whether that estimable
young man stole them himself, he never ascertained. As to the loss,
Dick was rather pleased that it had occurred. It seemed to cut him
off from the old vagabond life which he hoped never to resume.
Henceforward he meant to press onward, and rise as high as possible.
Although it was yet only noon, Dick did not go out again with his
brush. He felt that it was time to retire from business. He would
leave his share of the public patronage to other boys less fortunate
than himself. That evening Dick and Fosdick had a long conversation.
Fosdick rejoiced heartily in his friend's success, and on his side
had the pleasant news to communicate that his pay had been advanced
to six dollars a week.
"I think we can afford to leave Mott Street now," he continued.
"This house isn't as neat as it might be, and I shall like to live
in a nicer quarter of the city."
"All right," said Dick. "We'll hunt up a new room to-morrow. I shall
have plenty of time, having retired from business. I'll try to get
my reg'lar customers to take Johnny Nolan in my place. That boy
hasn't any enterprise. He needs some body to look out for him."
"You might give him your box and brush, too, Dick."
"No," said Dick; "I'll give him some new ones, but mine I want
to keep, to remind me of the hard times I've had, when I was an
ignorant boot-black, and never expected to be anything better.
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