The task was easy. There were picks, shovels, rakes, hoes, spades, pails, ice cream freezers, toy wagons with gilt letters, coils of rope and the various articles displayed by most village or country stores to attract custom. These were carried in by the lusty Mike, a half dozen at a time, and set down somewhat loosely at the rear, Nora making a few suggestions that were hardly needed.
While this was going on, the mother employed herself in locking the safe for the night. It will be remembered that in addition to the stamps and money belonging to the government and to herself, a liberal amount was already there, the property of one of the leading citizens of Beartown, who was glad to entrust it to the keeping of the honest widow.
“I think,” said the daughter when Mike had completed his work, which took only a few minutes, “you have earned your supper.”
“Ah, now what reward can equal the light of yer blue eyes and the swate smile that shows the purtiest teeth in the State of Maine?” was the instant inquiry in return.
The mother had just finished locking the safe, and, standing up, she laughed in her gentle way and said:
“Surely you have kissed the blarney stone, Mike.”
“I would have done the same had the chance been mine, which it wasn’t. Is there any more play that ye call wurruk which I can do fur the likes of ye?”
“Nothing more, thank you. Nora and I will now close the store and attend to preparing supper.”
“And I’ll bring me frinds to enj’y the same.”
So Mike bade them good night for a brief while, and strode down the road to find Alvin and Chester, whom, as you know, he met on their way to look for him. The three lingered and chatted, with the view of giving mother and daughter time in which to make ready the evening meal.