its most of the time, and my poor appetite. Where are the
letters?"

"I left them on the bureau in your room," said the servant. "They come
this afternoon at three o'clock."

Both Fosdick and Dick felt not a little curious as to who could have
written them letters, and hastened upstairs. Entering their chamber,
they saw two very neat little notes, in perfumed French envelopes, and
with the initial G in colors on the back. On opening them they read the
following in a neat, feminine, fine handwriting. As both were alike, it
will be sufficient to give Dick's.

"Miss Ida Greyson presents her compliments to Mr. Richard Hunter,
and solicits the pleasure of his company on Thursday evening next,
at a little birthday party.

"_No._ -- _West Twenty-Fourth Street._"

"We're getting fashionable," said Dick. "I didn't use to attend many
parties when we lived in Mott Street and blacked boots for a livin'. I'm
afraid I shan't know how to behave."

"I shall feel a little bashful," said Fosdick; "but I suppose we've got
to begin some time."

"Of course," said Dick. "The important position we hold in society makes
it necessary. How'll I be able to hold levees when I'm mayor, if I don't
go into society now?"

"Very true," said Fosdick; "I don't expect to occupy any such position;
but we ought to go in acknowledgment of Mr. Greyson's kindness."

Mr. Greyson was the teacher of the Sunday-school class of which both
Dick and Fosdick were members. His recommendation had procured Fosdick
his present place, and he had manifested his kindness in various ways.
Those who have read "Ragged Dick" will remember that he had a very
sprightly and engaging daughter of ten years of age, who seemed to have
taken an especial fancy to Dick. Being wealthy, his kindness had been of
great service to both boys, inspiring them with self-respect, and
encouraging them to persevere in their efforts to raise themselves to a
higher position.

The dinner-bell rang just as the boys had finished their discussion, and
they went down and took places at the table.

Soon Miss Peyton came sailing in, shaking her ringlets coquettishly. She
was proud of these ringlets, and was never tired of trying their
fascinations upon gentlemen. But somehow they had not succeeded in
winning a husband.

"Good-evening, Mr. Hunter," said she. "You look as if you had had good
news."

"Do I?" said Dick. "Perhaps you can tell what it is."

"I know how it came