"And the sign outside, and opened for business?"
"There was no one else on hand. I felt that I must represent my father, Mr. Stirling, who is the authorized agent here, until the seriousness of his condition was known. You see, there was business likely to come in, and I have been here to attend to it."
"Just so," vouchsafed his visitor. "No out shipments to-day, I believe?"
"No, it's a holiday, but there was some rush in stuff on the morning express."
"Where is it?"
"I have delivered most of it—the balance, two freezers of ice cream, I will attend to this afternoon. I am keeping a record and taking receipts, but giving none—I didn't feel warranted in that until I heard from the company."
"You have done very well, young man," said the stranger. "I am Robert Leslie, the superintendent, as I told you. Do you mean to say you rigged things up in this shape and got your deliveries out alone?"
"There was no one to help me," remarked Bart.
He felt pleased and encouraged, for the superintendent's cast-iron visage had softened considerably, and he manifested unmistakable interest as he reached out and took up and inspected the neatly formulated memoranda on the packing-box desk.
"What's this?" he inquired, running over the pages Bart had last been working on.