He found his decoys, sail, and oars where he had left them, and having packed them away in his wheelbarrow, he turned his face toward home.
As he was passing across the park he heard someone calling to him. He stopped, and looking across the street, saw Mr. Anderson running toward him and beckoning with his hand.
"What does he want, I wonder?" thought the boy. "I don't care to see him; but if he wants to see me, he can come where I am."
He set down the wheelbarrow, and taking his seat on one of the handles, looked at Mr. Anderson, who stopped in the middle of the street and waved his hand to him.
"Come over here!" he shouted.
"I can't see it," said Oscar to himself. "I have been insulted in that store once, and I never want to see the inside of it again. If he has anything to say to me, we'll have the interview right here, for this is neutral ground."
Oscar kept his seat on the wheelbarrow, and resting his elbows on his knees, looked up and down the street in an indifferent sort of way, as if he meant to show that Mr. Anderson and his movements did not interest him in the least.
The junior partner, finding that the boy paid no attention to his words and signals, came across the street and hurried up to him.
Our hero was astonished at his greeting. He thrust out his hand, and Oscar placed his own within it.