“I g-guess you’d better send for Mr. Skip and break the news to him,” says Mark, “and,” says he, “I wish Plunk and I could be in the next room where we c-could hear it.”
Mr. Sturgis almost smiled. I bet he would have smiled right out if he hadn’t practised being dignified so many years his face wouldn’t work the way it used to. But his eyes smiled and the corners of his mouth wiggled a little.
“To be sure,” said he; “right in there. Leave the door ajar and you can hear perfectly. I can—I can readily appreciate your desire to witness the demeanor of Mr. Skip in the circumstances you have arranged for him. I’ll send my boy over for him at once.”
Mark and I went into the next room as soon as we saw Jehoshaphat P. Skip coming down the street, but we left the door open about an inch so we would be sure to hear. Mark got down on all-fours and put his ear to the crack. I stood over him. Mark was heaving and rolling all over him, he was so tickled. It was one of those laughs of his without any noise to it. I felt pretty tickled myself.
In a minute Skip came into Mr. Sturgis’s office and said good afternoon and wanted to know why he was sent for.
“It is in reference to the store you occupy at present,” said Mr. Sturgis. “You have no lease, as the facts come to me, but only rent from month to month.”
“Exactly,” says Skip. “What of it?”
“The store has been leased to another party,” says Mr. Sturgis.
“Leased? How can they lease it? Hain’t I occupyin’ it? Say, what you talkin’ about, anyhow?”
“Other parties approached Mr. Mogford, owner of the building; he has granted them a lease for a period of two years. The next proceeding on the part of my client will be to notify you to leave the premises in thirty days.”