“Can’t tell you now. You’ll know afore long. You’ll get paid, too, for our fun to-night. I’ll call on you soon at head-quarters in the square. Till then, mum’s the word.”
“We’ll split then for to-night.”
Will went his way, whistling his feelings in a very gay air.
He was diligent in his store duties for the next few days, being light-hearted in an unusual degree.
And yet he fell into bitter disgrace before the week was out.
It was Thursday. They were engaged in getting in an invoice of very valuable goods. These were black silks of superior quality, and very costly.
Will labored vigorously, but with the utmost good humor, at the task of getting the cases into the store and lowering them into the basement, where it was decided to place them for the present.
Yet he could not repress his overflowing spirits, and executed a break-down between the lowering of one case and the receiving of another, that excited the laughter of the men, and the indignation of Mr. Wilson, who was passing.
“See here, boy,” he cried. “We don’t hire you for a negro minstrel or for a ballet dancer. You’ve raised disturbance enough in the store already. Now I want this thing stopped. I warn you now that the next time you attempt it you will be sent about your business.”
“I’m about my bizness now,” said Will, as he lent a hand to the next case.