The Pecks were sauntering aimlessly down the dormitory path, when Tompkins overtook them.
“Where are you going, Tommy, and what for?” demanded Duncan.
“I’m going to Horne’s to buy a paper of tacks, my sweet half bushel,” responded Tompkins, who was in fine humor. “May I have the pleasure of your company?”
“Sure!” said Donald, and Duncan seemed at first to be of the same mind, but after a few paces stopped abruptly. “I think I won’t go,” he said.
“Better come on and see how it’s done,” said Tompkins. “You may want to buy tacks sometime yourself.”
“You can show Don, he’s the better scholar,” Duncan rejoined, as he turned back toward the dormitory.
But Tompkins and Donald were no sooner out of sight around the corner than Duncan suddenly wheeled, and scampering down a side street and through a back yard, emerged among the stores on Water Street. He stopped at Horne’s hardware store, peeped in, and then boldly walked down to the middle of the store, where old Mr. Horne himself was sitting behind the morning paper. It was the noon hour and customers were few.
“Got any tacks?” asked Duncan.
“Yes,” replied Mr. Horne, slowly, eying the boy over his spectacles as he folded up his paper.
“Then sit on them!”