Prompt on the minute Mark stepped into the window and pasted up the list. For a minute the folks were quiet; then there was a hubbub. Everybody was astonished. Here, at the last minute, somebody had come in and beaten everybody.
“Peabody,” says a man, “who’s Jupiter Peabody? I know Sam Peabody, but he hain’t got no relatives named Jupiter that I know of.”
“Me, neither,” says Mr. Bloom. “Anyhow he’s handsomer’n I be. I’d like to git a look at him.”
Chet and Chancy both looked like they wanted to cry.
“Who is it?” says Chet.
“Never heard of him,” says Chancy, “but I’ll bet he’s homelier’n you be.”
“Anyhow,” says Chet, “he probably hain’t got curly hair.”
It looked for a minute like there might be a scrimmage, but just then an old man came along, driving a dump-cart filled with pumpkins.
“There,” says Mr. Bloom, “is Sam Peabody. Let’s ask him if he knows this Jupiter.”
So they stopped the old fellow, and Mr. Bloom says: