“So am I,” said Dick.  “Them hard words make my head ache.  I wonder who made ’em all?”

“That’s more than I can tell.  I suppose you’ve seen a dictionary.”

“That’s another of ’em.  No, I can’t say I have, though I may have seen him in the street without knowin’ him.”

“A dictionary is a book containing all the words in the language.”

“How many are there?”

“I don’t rightly know; but I think there are about fifty thousand.”

“It’s a pretty large family,” said Dick.  “Have I got to learn ’em all?”

“That will not be necessary.  There are a large number which you would never find occasion to use.”

“I’m glad of that,” said Dick; “for I don’t expect to live to be more’n a hundred, and by that time I wouldn’t be more’n half through.”

By this time the flickering lamp gave a decided hint to the boys that unless they made haste they would have to undress in the dark.  They accordingly drew off their clothes, and Dick jumped into bed.  But Fosdick, before doing so, knelt down by the side of the bed, and said a short prayer.

“What’s that for?” asked Dick, curiously.

“I was saying my prayers,” said Fosdick, as he rose from his knees.  “Don’t you ever do it?”

“No,” said Dick.  “Nobody ever taught me.”

“Then I’ll teach you.  Shall I?”

“I don’t know,” said Dick, dubiously.  “What’s the good?”

Fosdick explained as well as he could, and perhaps his simple explanation was better adapted to Dick’s comprehension than one from an older person would have been.  Dick felt more free to ask questions, and the example of his new friend, for whom he was beginning to feel a warm attachment, had considerable effect upon him.  When, therefore, Fosdick asked again if he should teach him a prayer, Dick consented, and his young bedfellow did so.  Dick was not naturally irreligious.  If he had lived without a knowledge of God and of religious things, it was scarcely to be wondered at in a lad who, from an early age, had been thrown upon his own exertions for the means of living, with no one to care for him or give him good advice.  But he was so far good that he could appreciate goodness in others, and this it was that had drawn him to Frank in the first place, and now to Henry Fosdick.  He did not, therefore, attempt to ridicule his companion, as some boys better brought up might have done, but was willing to follow his example in what something told him was right.  Our young hero had taken an important step toward securing that genuine respectability which he was ambitious to attain.

Weary with the day’s work, and Dick perhaps still more fatigued by the unusual mental effort he had made, the boys soon sank into a deep and peaceful slumber, from which they did not awaken till six o’clock the next morning.  Before going out Dick sought Mrs. Mooney, and spoke to her on the subject of taking Fosdick as a room-mate.  He found that she had no objection, provided he would allow her twenty-five cents a week extra, in consideration of the extra trouble which his companion might be expected to make.  To this Dick assented, and the arrangement was definitely concluded.