“Now don’t forget to impress the message on him,” cautioned Mr. Boise, “and watch where he puts the papers you give him. Just as likely as not he’ll call on me some day, and say he never received them.”
“I will,” promised Tom, and, when it came time for him to lay aside the telephone head-piece, he did so with a feeling of relief, for he welcomed the long trolley ride to the Back Bay district, even though it would bring him home rather late.
Mrs. Sandow opened the door when our hero arrived at the Spidderkins’ mansion.
“Here are some papers for Dr. Spidderkins,” said Tom.
“I’ll give ’em to him, then you won’t have to come in and get mud all over my clean floors,” she said, scowling at Tom.
“But I have a particular message to give the doctor.”
“Oh, well, then you can come in, I suppose,” but Mrs. Sandow did not speak very graciously.
“Ah, glad to see you,” greeted the aged physician, who, for a wonder, did not forget Tom this time. “When are you going to bring me my books? I ordered some of Mr. Townsend to-day.”
“I’m not there any more.”
“Oh, that’s so. I forgot. Let’s see, you told me where you were employed, but my wretched memory has made me forget it.”