No one in Mr. Leonard’s establishment was aware of the fact that a rat of a new species had made free that night with the contents of the cellar. Will, for reasons of his own, kept his adventure secret, appearing in the store the next morning as if he had just walked in from the street.
It had not been so easy to remove the traces of his rough usage of the goods, and he had spent considerable time in smoothing and folding the cloths and the richer and more fragile materials which had served him for a bed.
Something had happened which he considered it important to keep secret, and he went about his duties with a vim intended to prove that there was no weight on his mind, but that he was as fresh and free from care as a daisy.
“Here, Will,” called Mr. Johnson. “You are wanted front.”
“All right,” returned Will, cheerfully. “I’m the lad for your money if it’s anything under a ton weight to carry.”
It was out of the question, however, for him to proceed soberly through the store. He went at something like a bat’s flight, taking a case of goods in his way at a leap.
There were several dray-loads of goods unloading, and he was busily occupied for an hour. He was just at leisure again when he observed a person who had at that moment entered the store, and seemed to be looking around for a salesman.
He was a middle-aged person, who seemed from his dress and general appearance to be from the country, and not much used to city ways.
Above his flaming red necktie was a face of mingled simplicity and shrewdness, a beard of a week’s growth, covering the lower portion of his visage, while flax-like hair escaped from under his wide-brimmed felt hat and straggled over his forehead.
Will looked around for a salesman. There was none near. This was a difficulty he was not long in overcoming. He was intending to learn the whole business. Why not begin now?