Mark the Match Boy 20

Mark the Match Boy 20

"Dick Hunter!" exclaimed Roswell, scornfully, "Do you mean to say that

he has charge of you?"

 

"Yes," said Mark, firmly, for he perceived the tone in which his friend

was referred to, and resented it. Moreover the new __EXPRESSION__ which

came over Roswell's face brought back to his recollection the evening

when, for the first time in his life, he had begged in Fulton Market,

and been scornfully repulsed by Roswell and his mother. Roswell's

face had at first seemed familiar to him, but it was only now that he

recognized him. Roswell, on the other hand, was not likely to identify

the neatly dressed boy before him with the shivering little beggar of

the market. But it recurred to him all at once that Dick had referred

to his ward as a match boy.

 

"You were a match boy?" he said, in the manner of one making a grave

accusation.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Then why didn't you keep on selling matches, and not try to get a

place in a respectable store?"

 

"Because Mr. Hunter thought it better for me to go into a store."

 

"Mr. Hunter! Perhaps you don't know that your guardian, as you call

him, used to be a boot-black."

 

"Yes, he told me so."

 

"They called him 'Ragged Dick' then," said Roswell, turning up his

nose. "He couldn't read or write, I believe."

 

"He's a good scholar now," said Mark.

 

"Humph! I suppose he told you so. But you mustn't believe all he tells

you."

 

"He wouldn't tell anything but the truth," said Mark, who was bolder in

behalf of his friend than he would have been for himself.

 

"So he did tell you he was a good scholar? I thought so."

 

"No, he told me nothing about it; but since I have lived with him I've

heard him read French as well as English."

 

"Perhaps that isn't saying much," said Roswell, with a sneer. "Can you

read yourself?"

 

"Yes."

 

"That is more than I expected. What induced Mr. Baker to take a boy

from the street is more than I can tell."

 

"I suppose I can run errands just as well, if I was once a match boy,"

said Mark, who did not fancy the tone which Roswell assumed towards

him, and began to doubt whether he was a person of as much importance

as he at first supposed.

 

"We shall see," said Roswell, loftily. "But there's one thing I'll

advise you, young man, and that is, to treat me with proper respect.

You'll find it best to keep friends with me. I can get you turned away

any time."

 

Mark hardly knew whether to believe this or not. He already began to

suspect that Roswell was something of a humbug, and though it was not

in his nature to form a causeless dislike, he certainly did not feel

disposed to like Roswell. He did not care as much for any slighting

remarks upon himself, as for the scorn with which Roswell saw fit to

speak of his friend, Richard Hunter, who by his good offices had won

the little boy's lasting gratitude. Mark did not reply to the threat

contained in these last words of Roswell.

 

"Is there anything for me to do?" he asked.

 

"Yes, you may dust off those books on the counter. There's the duster

hanging up."

 

This was really Roswell's business, and he ought to have been at work

in this way instead of reading; but it was characteristic of him to

shift his duties upon others. He was not aware of how much time had

passed, and supposed that Mark would be through before Mr. Barker

returned. But that gentleman came in while Roswell was busily engaged

in reading.

 

"Is that the way you do your work, Roswell?" asked his employer.

 

Roswell jumped to his feet in some confusion.

 

"I thought I had better set the new boy to work," he said.

 

"Dusting the books is your work, not his."

 

"He was doing nothing, sir."

 

"He will have plenty to do in carrying out parcels. Besides, I don't

know that it is any worse for him to be idle than you. You were reading

also, which you know is against the rules of the store." Roswell made

no reply, but it hurt his pride considerably to be censured thus in

presence of Mark, to whom he had spoken with such an assumption of

power and patronage.

 

"I wish I had a store of my own," he thought, discontentedly. "Then I

could do as I pleased without having anybody to interfere with me."

 

But Roswell did not understand, and there are plenty of boys in the

same state of ignorance, that those who fill subordinate positions

acceptably are most likely to rise to stations where they will

themselves have control over others.

 

"I suppose you have not been to dinner," said Mr. Baker, turning to

Mark.

 

"No, sir."

 

"You board in St. Mark's Place, I think you said?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Very well, here is a parcel to go to East Ninth Street. You may call

and leave that at the address marked upon it, and may stay out long

enough for dinner. But don't be gone more than an hour in all."

 

"No, sir."

 

"I am glad that boy isn't my employer," thought Mark, referring of

course to Roswell Crawford, who, by the way, would have been indignant

at such an appellation. "I like Mr. Baker a great deal better."

 

Mark was punctual to his appointment, and in a little less than an hour

reported himself at the store again for duty.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XVII.

 

BAD ADVICE.

 

 

Roswell pursued his way home with a general sense of discontent. Why

should he be so much worse off than Richard Hunter, who had only been a

ragged boot-black three years before? The whole world seemed to be in a

conspiracy to advance Richard, and to keep him down. To think he should

be only earning six dollars a week, while Dick, whom he considered so

far beneath him, was receiving twenty, was really outrageous. And now

he had pushed a low dependent of his into Baker's store where Roswell

was obliged to associate with him!

 

Certainly Roswell's grievances were numerous. But there was one thing

he did not understand, that the greatest obstacle to his advancement

was himself. If he had entered any situation with the determination

to make his services valuable, and discharge his duties, whatever

they might be, with conscientious fidelity, he would have found his

relations with his employer much more agreeable and satisfactory.

 

Mrs. Crawford still kept the house in Clinton Place, letting nearly all

the rooms to lodgers. In this way she succeeded in making both ends

meet, though with considerable difficulty, so that she had not the

means to supply Roswell with the spending money he desired. Her nephew,

James Gilbert, Richard Huntley's predecessor as book-keeper, still

boarded with her. It will be remembered by the readers of "Fame and

Fortune," that this Gilbert, on being questioned by Mr. Rockwell as to

his share in the plot against Dick, had angrily resigned his position,

thinking, probably, that he should lose it at any rate.

 

It so happened that business was generally depressed at this time, and

it was three months before he succeeded in obtaining another place, and

then he was compelled to work for eight hundred dollars, or two hundred

less than he had formerly received. This was a great disappointment to

him, and did not help his temper much, which had never been very sweet.

He felt quite exasperated against Dick, whom, very much against his

wishes, he had seen the means of promoting to his own place. Indeed,

on this point, he sympathized heartily with Roswell, whose dislike to

Richard Hunter has already been shown.

 

"Well, mother," said Roswell, as he entered Mrs. Crawford's presence,

"I'm getting tired of Baker's store."

 

"Don't say so, Roswell," said his mother, in alarm. "Remember how long

it took you to get the place."

 

"I have to work like a dog for six dollars a week," said Roswell.

 

"Yes," said his cousin, with a sneer, "that's precisely the way you

work. Dogs spend their time running round the street doing nothing."

 

"Well, I have to work hard enough," said Roswell, "but I wouldn't mind

that so much, if I didn't have to associate with low match boys."

 

"What do you mean, Roswell?" asked his mother, who did not understand the allusion.