While Dick was speaking, the car rolled away, and the boys turned up Fifty-ninth Street, for two long blocks yet separated them from the Park.
CHAPTER X
INTRODUCES A VICTIM OF MISPLACED CONFIDENCE
“What a queer chap you are, Dick!” said Frank, laughing. “You always seem to be in good spirits.”
“No, I ain’t always. Sometimes I have the blues.”
“When?”
“Well, once last winter it was awful cold, and there was big holes in my shoes, and my gloves and all my warm clothes was at the tailor’s. I felt as if life was sort of tough, and I’d like it if some rich man would adopt me, and give me plenty to eat and drink and wear, without my havin’ to look so sharp after it. Then agin’ when I’ve seen boys with good homes, and fathers, and mothers, I’ve thought I’d like to have somebody to care for me.”
Dick’s tone changed as he said this, from his usual levity, and there was a touch of sadness in it. Frank, blessed with a good home and indulgent parents, could not help pitying the friendless boy who had found life such up-hill work.
“Don’t say you have no one to care for you, Dick,” he said, lightly laying his hand on Dick’s shoulder. “I will care for you.”
“Will you?”
“If you will let me.”
“I wish you would,” said Dick, earnestly. “I’d like to feel that I have one friend who cares for me.”
Central Park was now before them, but it was far from presenting the appearance which it now exhibits. It had not been long since work had been commenced upon it, and it was still very rough and unfinished. A rough tract of land, two miles and a half from north to south, and a half a mile broad, very rocky in parts, was the material from which the Park Commissioners have made the present beautiful enclosure. There were no houses of good appearance near it, buildings being limited mainly to rude temporary huts used by the workmen who were employed in improving it. The time will undoubtedly come when the Park will be surrounded by elegant residences, and compare favorably in this respect with the most attractive parts of any city in the world. But at the time when Frank and Dick visited it, not much could be said in favor either of the Park or its neighborhood.
“If this is Central Park,” said Frank, who naturally felt disappointed, “I don’t think much of it. My father’s got a large pasture that is much nicer.”
“It’ll look better some time,” said Dick. “There ain’t much to see now but rocks. We will take a walk over it if you want to.”
“No,” said Frank, “I’ve seen as much of it as I want to. Besides, I feel tired.”
“Then we’ll go back. We can take the Sixth Avenue cars. They will bring us out at Vesey Street just beside the Astor House.”
“All right,” said Frank. “That will be the best course. I hope,” he added, laughing, “our agreeable lady friend won’t be there. I don’t care about being accused of stealing again.”
“She was a tough one,” said Dick. “Wouldn’t she make a nice wife for a man that likes to live in hot water, and didn’t mind bein’ scalded two or three times a day?”
“Yes, I think she’d just suit him. Is that the right car, Dick?”
“Yes, jump in, and I’ll follow.”
The Sixth Avenue is lined with stores, many of them of very good appearance, and would make a very respectable principal street for a good-sized city. But it is only one of several long business streets which run up the island, and illustrate the extent and importance of the city to which they belong.
No incidents worth mentioning took place during their ride down town. In about three-quarters of an hour the boys got out of the car beside the Astor House.
“Are you goin’ in now, Frank?” asked Dick.
“That depends upon whether you have anything else to show me.”
“Wouldn’t you like to go to Wall Street?”
“That’s the street where there are so many bankers and brokers,–isn’t it?”