“It was about belladonna and fruit cake,” answered Tom.
“Oh, yes, so it was. Yes, he was quite a help to me—I mean he showed me that I had the wrong memoranda,” went on the physician. “I must get a secretary if my memory keeps on failing me. But I must pay you for these books, Mr. Townsend. I’ll take them right along with me, or I’ll forget all about them.”
“Better let me send them,” suggested the proprietor of the Emporium. “They’ll make quite a heavy bundle.”
“Perhaps you had better. Here is the money,” and the doctor held out several bills.
“Do you want that book you have under your arm?” asked Mr. Townsend with a laugh, pointing to a small volume, almost hidden by the big sleeve of the doctor’s coat.
“Have I a book there? Why, bless my soul, so I have! I remember now, I took it down to look up a certain fact about how the Chinese use opium to deaden pain in sickness. It is just like a book I have, only mine is an earlier edition. I think I will take this. You may wrap it up with the others. Queer, how forgetful I am becoming. Now be sure those books are up to my house to-night.”
“They’ll be there,” Mr. Townsend assured the physician, as Tom went to the counter to wrap them up.
Dr. Spidderkins took his departure, and soon after this, Tom was told he could go out and get some lunch. He did not eat an elaborate meal and was soon back at his place.
During the afternoon he went on a number of errands, arranged several shelves of books, dusted off long rows of volumes, and waited on one or two customers.
“I’m beginning to learn the book business,” thought the lad proudly, after he had made his third sale without an error. True they were only small ones, involving the purchase of a pad, a pencil, and the last one being a small book, purchased by a girl. But they meant a lot to Tom.