With that Duncan turned abruptly and hastened away, leaving the old man speechless with indignation. Outside the store he dodged into an alley long enough to avoid Tompkins and Donald, who were approaching, and then made full speed for Parker’s, the next hardware store above.
Meantime Tompkins and Donald had entered Horne’s. Donald lingered near the door, looking at the knives and revolvers in the showcase, while Tompkins went on toward a fierce-looking old gentleman who glared at his approaching customer in a markedly inhospitable fashion.
“Got any tacks?” asked Tompkins, innocently.
Mr. Horne’s face grew red and white in spots. His eyes glittered behind his spectacles. Clutching his paper in a trembling hand, he shook it violently before the face of the astonished Tompkins.
“You can’t ketch me again, you young scapegrace! You git out of this store as fast as you can git. I know what you’re here for. That sassbox out there has been puttin’ you up to it, but it won’t go down again. You git out o’ here as lively as you can step it, or I’ll call the police and have you put out!”
Tompkins stared dumfounded while Mr. Horne unbosomed himself of his strong emotions; then a half smile broke over the would-be customer’s face. Donald was grinning from ear to ear; this was fun that he had not expected.
“It seems to me your manners are a trifle brusque,” remarked Tompkins, more amused than angered. “Is this your usual way of treating customers?”
“Customers! You didn’t come here to buy anything, you came to insult me.”
“Sorry to differ from you,” replied Tompkins. “I wanted to buy when I came in, but I don’t want to now. I don’t feel at home with crazy people. Come on, Don!”
And the senior strode out of the store indignantly, followed by the snickering Peck.