CHAPTER XXII.
MICKY MAGUIRE RETURNS FROM THE ISLAND.
For three months Micky Maguire was not seen in his accustomed haunts.During his involuntary residence at the Island he often brooded over thetreachery of Gilbert, to whom his present misfortune was due. He feltthat he had been selfishly left to his fate by his equally guiltyconfederate. It had certainly been a losing speculation for poor Micky.He had received but a paltry dollar for his services, and in return hewas deprived of his liberty for three months.
The disgrace of being sent to the Island Micky did not feel as Dickwould have done. He had been there too many times to care for that. Buthe did not like the restraints of the place, and he did like the freeand independent life of the streets from which for a time he wasdebarred.
The result of Micky's brooding was a strong thirst for vengeance uponthe author of his misfortunes. He could do nothing at present, but onlybide his time.
Meanwhile things went on pretty much as usual at the establishment inPearl Street. Gilbert liked Dick no better than he had done. In fact, hedisliked him more, but, seeing the friendly relations between Dick andhis employer, found it prudent to treat him well whenever Mr. Rockwellwas by. At other times he indulged in sneers and fault-finding, whichDick turned off good-humoredly, or returned some droll answer, whichblunted the edge of the sarcasm, and made the book-keeper chafe with thefeeling that he was no match for the boy he hated. Dick, by faithfulattention to his duties, and a ready comprehension of what was requiredof him, steadily advanced in the good opinion of every one exceptGilbert.
"Keep on as you have begun, Richard," said Mr. Murdock to him, "andyou'll be a member of the firm some time."
"Do you really think so, Mr. Murdock?" asked Dick, with a flush ofgratification.
"I really do. You have excellent abilities, Mr. Rockwell likes you, andyou have only to continue steady and faithful, and you'll be sure torise."
"You know what I was, Mr. Murdock."
"You are none the worse for that, Richard. It is a great credit to a boyto earn his own living when circumstances force it upon him. If hisemployment is an honest one, it is an honorable one."
By such remarks as these Dick was encouraged, and he felt that Mr.Murdock was a true friend to him. Meanwhile a way was opening for hisadvancement.
One day Micky Maguire appeared in his old haunts. The second day he metGilbert in the street; but the book-keeper took not the slightest noticeof him. That touched Micky's pride, and confirmed him in his resolution.He decided to make known to Mr. Rockwell Gilbert's share in the littleplot, thinking that this would probably be the best method of injuringhim.
He ascertained, by means of a directory, with some difficulty, forMicky's education was rather slight, the residence of Mr. Rockwell, andabout eight o'clock in the evening ascended the steps and rang the bell.He might have gone to his place of business, but Gilbert would be there,and he preferred to see Mr. Rockwell at home.
The servant stared at the odd and not particularly prepossessing figurebefore her.
"Is Mr. Rockwell at home?" asked Micky.
"Yes."
"I want to see him."
"Did he tell you to call?"
"It's on particular business," said Micky.
"Stop here and I'll tell him," said the girl.
"There's a boy at the door wants to see you, Mr. Rockwell," said thegirl.
"Did you ask him in?"
"No sir. He looks like a suspicious carakter," said Bridget, laying thestress on the second syllable.
Mr. Rockwell rose, and went to the door.
"What is your business?" he asked.
"It's about Dick,--Ragged Dick we used to call him," said Micky.
"You mean Richard Hunter."
"Yes," said Micky. "He was took up for stealin' a gentleman'spocket-book three months ago."
"But he was proved innocent," said Mr. Rockwell, "so, if you haveanything to say against him, your time is thrown away."
"I know he was innocent," said Micky; "another boy took it."
"Who was he?"
"I did it."
"Then you did a wicked thing in stealing the money, and a mean thing intrying to get an innocent boy into trouble."
"I wouldn't have done it," said Micky, "if I hadn't been paid for it."
"Paid for stealing!" said Mr. Rockwell, astonished.
"Paid for tryin' to get Dick into trouble."
"That does not seem to be a very likely story," said Mr. Rockwell. "Whowould pay you money for doing such a thing?"
"Mr. Gilbert."
"My book-keeper?"
"Yes," said Micky, vindictively.
"I can hardly believe this," said Mr. Rockwell.
"He paid me only a dollar for what I did," said Micky, in an injuredtone. "He'd ought to have given me five dollars. He's a reg'lar meanfeller."
"And is this why you betray him now?"
"No," said Micky; "it isn't the money, though it's mean to expect afeller to run the risk of bein' nabbed for a dollar; but when the 'copp'had got hold of me I met him, and he said I was a young scamp, and hedidn't know anything about me."
"Is this true?" asked Mr. Rockwell, looking keenly at Micky.
Micky confirmed his statement by an oath.
"I don't want you to swear. I shall not believe you the sooner for that.Can you explain why Mr. Gilbert should engage in such a baseconspiracy?"
"He told me that he hated Dick," said Micky.
"Do you like him?"
"No, I don't," said Micky, honestly; "but I hate Mr. Gilbert worse."
"Why do you hate Richard?"
"Because he puts on airs."
"I suppose," said Mr. Rockwell, smiling, "that means that he wears goodclothes, and keeps his face and hands clean."
"He wasn't nothin' but a boot-black," said Micky, in an injured tone.
"What are you?"
"I'm a boot-black too; but I don't put on airs."
"Do you mean to be a boot-black all your life?"
"I dunna," said Micky; "there aint anything else to do."
"Tell me truly, wouldn't you rather wear good clothes than poor ones,and keep yourself clean and neat?"
"Yes, I should," said Micky, after a slight hesitation.
"Then why do you blame Dick for preferring to do the same?"
"He licked me once," said Micky, rather reluctantly, shifting hisground.
"What for?"
"I fired a stone at him."
"You can't blame him much for that, can you?"
"No," said Micky, slowly, "I dunno as I can."
"For my own part I have a very good opinion of Richard," said Mr.Rockwell. "He wants to raise himself in the world, and I am glad to helphim. If that is putting on airs, I should be glad to see you doing thesame."
"There aint no chance for me," said Micky.
"Why not?"
"I aint lucky as Dick is."
"Dick may have been lucky," said Mr. Rockwell, "but I generally findthat luck comes oftenest to those who deserve it. If you will try toraise yourself I will help you."
"Will you?" asked Micky, in surprise.
The fact was, he had been an Ishmaelite from his earliest years, andwhile he had been surrounded by fellows like Limpy Jim, who were readyto encourage and abet him in schemes of mischief, he had never had anyfriends who deserved the name. That a gentleman like Mr. Rockwell shouldvoluntarily offer to assist him was indeed surprising.
"How old are you?" asked Mr. Rockwell.
"Seventeen," said Micky.
"How long have you blacked boots?"
"Ever since I was eight or nine."
"I think it is time for you to do something else."
"What will I do?"
"We must think of that. I must also think of the information you havegiven me in regard to Mr. Gilbert. You are certain you are telling thetruth."
"Yes," said Micky; "it's the truth."
Micky did not swear this time, and Mr. Rockwell believed him
.
"Let me see," he said, reflecting; "can you be at my store to-morrowmorning at ten o'clock?"
"I can," said Micky, promptly.
"What is your name?"
"Micky Maguire."
"Good-night, Michael."
"Good-night, sir," said Micky, respectfully.
He walked away with a crowd of new thoughts and new aspirations kindlingin his breast. A gentleman had actually offered to help him on in theworld. Nobody had ever taken any interest in him before. Life to him hadbeen a struggle and a conflict, with very little hope of better things.He had supposed he should leave off blacking boots some time, but noprospect seemed open before him.
"Why shouldn't I get up in the world?" he thought, with new ambition.
He half confessed to himself that he had led a bad life, and vaguethoughts of amendment came to him. Somebody was going to take aninterest in him. That was the secret of his better thoughts andpurposes.
On the whole, I begin to think there is hope for Micky.
Fame and Fortune; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter Page 22