Mark the Match Boy 23
So the afternoon passed away without any incident worthy of mention.
In the evening Roswell met Ralph Graham, as he had got into the habit
of doing.
"Well, Roswell, I feel just like going to the theatre to-night," were
his first words of salutation.
"Well, we'll go," said Roswell.
"Good! You've got money to buy the tickets, then?"
"Yes," said Roswell, with an air of importance. "What's the play?"
"It's a London play that's had a great run. Tom Hastings tells me it is
splendid. You take me there to night, and I'll take you to the New York
Circus some evening next week."
This arrangement was very satisfactory to Roswell, who had never
visited the circus, and had a great desire to do so. At an early hour
the boys went to the theatre, and succeeded in obtaining front seats
in the family circle. Roswell managed to enjoy the play, although
unpleasant thoughts of how the money was obtained by which the tickets
were procured, would occasionally intrude upon him. But the fascination
of the stage kept them from troubling him much.
When the performance was over, he suggested an ice-cream.
"With all my heart," said Ralph. "I feel warm and thirsty, and an
ice-cream will cool my throat."
So they adjourned to a confectionery establishment nearly opposite, and
Roswell, with an air of importance, called for the creams. They sat
leisurely over them, and it was nearly half past eleven when Roswell
got home.
"What keeps you out so late, Roswell?" asked his mother, anxiously, for
she was still up.
"I was at the theatre," said Roswell.
"Where did you get the money?"
"It's only thirty cents to the family circle," said Roswell,
carelessly. "I'm tired, and will go right up to bed."
So he closed the discussion, not caring to answer many inquiries as to
his evening's amusement. His outlay for tickets and for the ice-cream
afterwards had just used up the money he had stolen, and all that
he had to compensate for the loss of his integrity was a headache,
occasioned by late hours, and the warm and confined atmosphere at the
theatre.
CHAPTER XIX.
RICHARD HUNTER IS PROMOTED.
It was with eager impatience that Mark awaited the return of Richard
Hunter, to communicate to him his good luck in securing a place. The
thought that he had secured it by his own exertions gave him great
satisfaction.
"I've got a place," were his first words, as Richard entered the house.
"Already?" asked Richard Hunter. "You have been quite smart, Mark. How
did you manage to obtain it?"
Mark gave the particulars, which need not be repeated.
"What kind of a store is it?"
"A bookstore."
"What is the name of your employer?"
"Baker."
"Baker's bookstore!" repeated Richard, turning to Fosdick. "That is
where our particular friend, Roswell Crawford, is employed."
"Yes," said Mark; "there's a boy there about sixteen or seventeen. I
believe that is his name."
"I am not sure whether his being there will make it pleasant to you.
Does he know that you are a friend of mine?"
"Yes," said Mark; "he inquired particularly about you, Mr. Hunter."
"He's very fond of me," said Dick; "I suppose he sent me his love."
"No," said Mark, smiling; "he didn't speak as if he loved you very
much."
"He doesn't like me very much. I am afraid when he gets to be president
I shan't stand much chance of an office. He didn't try to bully
you,--did he?"
"He said he could get me sent off if I wasn't careful to please him."
"That sounds like Roswell."
"He talked as if he was one of the firm," said Mark; "but when Mr.
Baker came in, he began to scold him for not dusting the books. After
that I didn't think so much of what he said."
"It's a way he has," said Fosdick. "He don't like me much either, as I
got a place that he was trying for."
"If he bullies you, just let me know," said Richard. "Perhaps I can
stop it."
"I am not afraid," said Mark. "Mr. Baker is there most of the time, and
he wouldn't dare to bully me before him."
Sunday morning came,--a day when the noisy streets were hushed, and the
hum of business was stilled. Richard Hunter and Fosdick still attended
the Sunday school, to which they had now belonged for over two years.
They were still members of Mr. Greyson's class, and were much better
informed in religious matters than formerly. Frequently--for they were
favorite scholars with Mr. Greyson--he invited them home to dine at
his handsome residence. Both boys were now perfectly self-possessed
on such occasions. They knew how to behave at the table with perfect
decorum, and no one would have judged from their dress, manners, or
conversation, that they had not always been accustomed to the same
style of living.
Mr. and Mrs. Greyson noticed with pleasure the great improvement in
their protegés, and always welcomed them with kind hospitality. But
there was another member of the family who always looked forward with
pleasure to seeing them. This was Ida, now a young lady of thirteen,
who had from the first taken an especial fancy to Dick, as she always
called him.
"Well, Mark," said Richard Hunter, on Sunday morning, "wouldn't you
like to go to Sunday school with me?"
"Yes," said Mark. "Mother always wanted me to go to Sunday school, but
she was so poor that she could not dress me in suitable clothes."
"There is nothing to prevent your going now. We shall be ready in about
half an hour."
At the appointed time the three set out. The distance was not great,
the church being situated four blocks farther up town on Fifth Avenue.
They chanced to meet Mr. Greyson on the church steps.
"Good-morning, Richard. Good-morning, Henry," he said. Then, glancing
at Mark, "Who is your young friend?"
"His name is Mark Manton," said Richard. "He is my ward."
"Indeed! I had not thought of you in the character of a guardian," said
Mr. Greyson, smiling.
"I should like to have him enter one of the younger classes," said
Richard.
"Certainly, I will gladly find a place for him. Perhaps you can take
him in your class."
"In my class!" repeated Richard, in surprise.
"Yes, I thought I had mentioned to you that Mr. Benton was about to
leave the city, and is obliged to give up his class. I would like to
have you take it."
"But am I qualified to be a teacher?" asked Richard, who had never
before thought of being invited to take a class.
"I think you have excellent qualifications for such a position. It
speaks well for you, however, that you should feel a modest hesitation
on the subject."
"I think Fosdick would make a better teacher than I."
"Oh, I intend to draft him into the service also. I shall ask him to
take the next vacancy."
The class assigned to our friend Dick (we are sometimes tempted to
call him by his old, familiar name) consisted of boys of from ten to
eleven years of age. Among these Mark was placed. Although he had
never before attended a Sunday school, his mother, who was an excellent
woman, had given him considerable religious instruction, so that he was
about as well advanced as the rest of the class.
Richard easily adapted himself to the new situation in which he was
placed. He illustrated the lesson in a familiar and oftentimes quaint
manner, so that he easily commanded the attention of the boys, who were
surprised when the time came for the lesson to close.
"I am glad you are my teacher, Mr. Hunter," said one of the boys at the
close of the service.
"Thank you," said Richard, who felt gratified at the compliment. "It's
new business to me, but I hope I shall be able to interest you."
"Won't you come and dine with us?" asked Mr. Greyson, as they were
leaving the church.
Richard Hunter hesitated.
"I don't know if Mark can find his way home," he said with hesitation.
"Yes, I can, Mr. Hunter," said Mark. "Don't trouble yourself about me."
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