“That’s all right, lad. I’ll watch awhile and see you doing business.”
This promised to be quite interesting, John Dean decided, with a sudden zest. He looked forward to the evening before him. He watched the boy, his quickness and his method, and he noted that Ted was the least bit quicker than the other boys and that he seemed to enjoy the competition and the struggle of selling papers. Dean decided it was a hard game. The boy’s stock of papers was rapidly diminishing.
“I can take you over now, Mr.——”
“Dean,” answered the owner of that name, smiling.
“Then I can return and finish up, get home and be back, all in about an hour. Will that be all right?”
“It will—fine,” was the reply.
The two walked down to the Settlement. On the way Ted explained how fine a place it was, just what it did, the clubs in it, and the gymnasium classes. He told the man, quite proudly, that he was a Scout.
“My! I wish you could meet Miss Wells,” the boy added.
The man started. He turned eagerly at the name. He was about to ask a question—stopped—changed his mind and allowed the boy to continue telling of the many fine points of the place to which he was being taken. The boy did so with tremendous pride.
“I suppose you go to the Settlement often?” he remarked.