CHAPTER V.
A YOUNG F. F. B.
As the two boys sat in front of the fire, popping and eating thecorn, and chatting of one thing and another, their acquaintanceimproved rapidly. Harry learned that Oscar's father was a Bostonmerchant, in the Calcutta trade, with a counting-room on Long Wharf.Oscar was a year older than himself, and the oldest child. He had asister of thirteen, named Florence, and a younger brother, Charlie,now ten. They lived on Beacon Street, opposite the Common. ThoughHarry had never lived in Boston, be knew that this was a fashionablestreet, and he had no difficulty in inferring that Mr. Vincent was arich man. He felt what a wide gulf there was socially betweenhimself and Oscar; one the son of a very poor country farmer, theother the son of a merchant prince. But nothing in Oscar's mannerindicated the faintest feeling of superiority, and this pleasedHarry. I may as well say, however, that our hero was not one to showany foolish subserviency to a richer boy; he thought mainly ofOscar's superiority in knowledge; and although the latter was farahead of Harry on this score, he was not one to boast of it.
Harry, in return for Oscar's confidence, acquainted him with his ownadventures since he had started out to earn his own living. Oscarwas most interested in his apprenticeship to the ventriloquist.
"It must have been jolly fun," he said. "I shouldn't mindtravelling round with him myself. Can you perform any tricks?"
"A few," said Harry.
"Show me some, that's a good fellow."
"If you won't show others. Professor Henderson wouldn't like to havehis tricks generally known. I could show more if I had the articleshe uses. But I can do some without."
"Go ahead, Professor. I'm all attention."
Not having served an apprenticeship to a magician, as Harry did, Iwill not undertake to describe the few simple tricks which he hadpicked up, and now exhibited for the entertainment of his companion.It is enough to say that they were quite satisfactory, and that Oscarprofessed his intention to puzzle his Boston friends with them, whenhis vacation arrived.
About half-past eight, a knock was heard at the door.
"Come in!" called out Oscar.
The door was opened, and a boy about his own age entered. His namewas Fitzgerald Fletcher. He was also a Boston boy, and the son of aretail merchant, doing business on Washington street. His fatherlived handsomely, and was supposed to be rich. At any rateFitzgerald supposed him to be so, and was very proud of the fact. Hegenerally let any new acquaintances understand very speedily that hisfather was a man of property, and that his family moved in the firstcircles of Boston Society. He cultivated the acquaintance of thoseboys who belonged to rich families, and did not fail to show thesuperiority which he felt to those of less abundant means. Forexample, he liked to be considered intimate with Oscar, as the socialposition of Mr. Vincent was higher than that of his own family. Itgave him an excuse also for calling on Oscar in Boston. He had triedto ingratiate himself also with Oscar's sister Florence, but had onlydisgusted her with his airs, so that he could not flatter himselfwith his success in this direction. Oscar had very little liking forhim, but as school-fellows they often met, and Fitzgerald oftencalled upon him. On such occasions he treated him politely enough,for it was not in his nature to be rude without cause.
Fitz was elaborately dressed, feeling that handsome clothes wouldhelp convey the impression of wealth, which he was anxious toestablish. In particular he paid attention to his neckties, of whichhe boasted a greater variety than any of his school-mates. It wasnot a lofty ambition, but, such as it was, he was able to gratify it.
"How are you, Fitz?" said Oscar, when he saw who was his visitor."Draw up a chair to the fire, and make yourself comfortable."
"Thank you, Oscar," said Fitzgerald, leisurely drawing off a pair ofkid gloves; "I thought I would drop in and see you."
"All right! Will you have some popped corn?"
"No, thank you," answered Fitzgerald, shrugging his shoulders. "Idon't fancy the article."
"Don't you? Then you don't know what's good."
"Fancy passing round popped corn at a party in Boston," said theother. "How people would stare!"
"Would they? I don't know about that. I think some would be moresensible and eat. But, I beg your pardon, I haven't introduced youto my friend, Harry Walton. Harry, this is a classmate of mine.Fitzgerald Fletcher, Esq., of Boston."
Fitzgerald did not appear to perceive that the title Esq. wassportively added to his name. He took it seriously, and was pleasedwith it, as a recognition of his social superiority. He bowedceremoniously to our hero, and said, formally, "I am pleased to makeyour acquaintance, Mr. Walton."
"Thank you, Mr. Fletcher," replied Harry, bowing in turn.
"I wonder who he is," thought Fitzgerald.
He had no idea of the true position of our young hero, or he wouldnot have wasted so much politeness upon him. The fact was, thatHarry was well dressed, having on the suit which had been given himby a friend from the city. It was therefore fashionably cut, and hadbeen so well kept as still to be in very good condition. It occurredto Fitz--to give him the short name he received from hisschool-fellows--that it might be a Boston friend of Oscar's, justentering the Academy. This might account for his not having met himbefore. Perhaps he was from an aristocratic Boston family. Hisintimacy with Oscar rendered it probable, and it might be well tocultivate his acquaintance. On this hint he spoke.
"Are you about to enter the Academy, Mr. Walton?"
"No; I should like to do so, but cannot."
"You are one of Oscar's friends from the city, I suppose, then?"
"Oh no; I am living in Centreville."
"Who can he be?" thought Fitz. With considerable less cordiality inhis manner, he continued, impelled by curiosity,--
"I don't think I have met you before."
"No: I have only just come to the village."
Oscar understood thoroughly the bewilderment of his visitor, andenjoyed it. He knew the weakness of Fitz, and he could imagine howhis feelings would change when be ascertained the real position ofHarry.
"My friend," he explained, "is connected with the 'CentrevilleGazette.'"
"In what capacity?" asked Fitz, in surprise.
"He is profanely termed the 'printer's devil.' Isn't that so, Harry?"
"I believe you are right," said our hero, smiling. He had asuspicion that this relation would shock his new acquaintance.
"Indeed!" ejaculated Fitz, pursing up his lips, and, I was about tosay, turning up his nose, but nature had saved him the little troubleof doing that.
"What in the world brings him here, then?" he thought; but there wasno need of saying it, for both Oscar and Harry read it in his manner."Strange that Oscar Vincent, from one of the first families ofBoston, should demean himself by keeping company with a low printerboy!"
"Harry and I have had a jolly time popping corn this evening!" saidOscar, choosing to ignore his school-mate's changed manner.
"Indeed! I can't see what fun there is in it."
"Oh, you've got no taste. Has he, Harry?"
"His taste differs from ours," said our hero, politely.
"I should think so," remarked Fitz, with significant emphasis. "Wasthat all you had to amuse yourself?"
In using the singular pronoun, he expressly ignored the presence ofthe young printer.
"No, that wasn't all. My friend Harry has been amusing me with sometricks which he learned while he was travelling round with ProfessorHenderson, the ventriloquist and magician."
"Really, he is quite accomplished," said Fitz, with a covert sneer."Pretty company Oscar has taken up with!" he thought. "How long wereyou in the circus business?" he asked, turning to Harry.
"I never was in the circus business."
"Excuse me. I should say, travelling about with the ventriloquist."
"About three months. I was with him when he performed here lastwinter."
"Ah! indeed. I didn't go. My father doesn't appro
ve of myattending such common performances. I only attend first-classtheatres, and the Italian opera."
"That's foolish," said Oscar. "You miss a good deal of fun, then. Iwent to Professor Henderson's entertainment, and I now rememberseeing you there, Harry. You took money at the door, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Now I understand what made your face seem so familiar to me, when Isaw it this afternoon. By the way, I have never been into a printingoffice. If I come round to yours, will you show me round?"
"I should be very glad to, Oscar, but perhaps you had better waittill I have been there a little while, and learned the ropes. I knowvery little about it yet."
"Won't you come too, Fitz?" asked Oscar.
"You must really excuse me," drawled Fitz. "I have heard that aprinting office is a very dirty place. I should be afraid of soilingmy clothes."
"Especially that stunning cravat."
"Do you like it? I flatter myself it's something a little extra,"said Fitz, who was always gratified by a compliment to his cravats.
"Then you won't go?"
"I haven't the slightest curiosity about such a place, I assure you."
"Then I shall have to go alone. Let me know when you are ready toreceive me, Harry."
"I won't forget, Oscar."
"I wonder he allows such a low fellow to call him by his first name,"thought Fitz. "Really, he has no proper pride."
"Well," he said, rising, "I must be going."
"What's your hurry, Fitz?"
"I've got to write a letter home this evening. Besides, I haven'tfinished my Greek. Good-evening, Oscar."
"Good-evening, Fitz."
"Good-evening, Mr. Fletcher," said Harry.
"Evening!" ejaculated Fitz, briefly; and without a look at the low"printer-boy," he closed the door and went down stairs.
Risen from the Ranks; Or, Harry Walton's Success Page 5