“It will be closing time in half an hour,” remarked one of the younger clerks to Tom. “Do you live far from here?”
“Not very. About half an hour’s walk. But I thought you kept open late during the holidays?”
“We will, beginning next week. It will be ten o’clock every night then, but we get supper money.”
“That’s good,” remarked Tom.
“Here, what’s this!” suddenly exclaimed Mr. Townsend, as he saw the bundle of books which Tom had wrapped up for Dr. Spidderkins. “Haven’t these books been called for by the expressman?”
“No, sir,” replied the clerk, in charge of that part of the work.
“This will never do,” went on the proprietor. “The doctor wants the books to-night. Call up the express office and see if they are coming.”
The clerk put the telephone into operation, and presently reported to Mr. Townsend:
“He says the man forgot to call on his afternoon trip, and it’s too late now.”
“That’s too bad!” exclaimed Mr. Townsend. “Those books must go to Dr. Spidderkins to-night, or he’ll be very much disappointed, and he’s too good a customer to disappoint. Tom, you had better jump on a car and take them to him. Do you know your way around the Back Bay district?”