“But how can he say that when I haven’t been near the place, Ben?” returned Dave.
“I don’t know. But I do know that people have sometimes had things charged to them at the stores which other people got.”
“Humph! Well, I sha’n’t pay for any shoes that I did not get,” answered our hero, simply.
Mr. Wecks’s establishment was at the far end of the main street of Coburntown; so the lads had half a dozen blocks to cover before they reached the place.
“Hello, it’s closed!” exclaimed Ben, as they came in sight of the store; and he nodded in the direction of the show window, the curtain of which was drawn down. The curtain on the door was also down, and on the glass was pasted a sheet of note paper.
“Some sort of notice. I’ll see what it is,” answered Dave, and, throwing the reins to Ben, he 28 left the sleigh. Soon he was reading what was written on the sheet of paper:
Closed on account of death in the family.
William Wecks.
“Somebody dead. That’s too bad!” mused Dave. “I wonder who it can be?” and then he passed into a barber shop next door to find out.
“It’s Mr. Wecks’s father––a very old man who lived back in the country from here,” explained the barber. “Mr. Wecks went up there last night, and he doesn’t expect to come back until after the funeral, which will probably be day after to-morrow.”
“I don’t suppose his clerk is around?” questioned Dave.