"Sir?" she said.
"I say, how goes it with you, my good boy. How have you passed the time in my unavoidable absence upon a little business?"
"Quite tolerable, sir, thank you, with the exception that a dog pushed his way into the shop, and, as you see, sir, has made some confusion."
"A dog?"
"Yes, sir. A large one, black and white. I had no strength to turn him out, so he had his will in the shop, and tossed the things about as you see, sir."
"My malediction upon that confounded dog. He is mad, Charley, I tell you, he is stark, staring mad. Why did you not throw open razors at him until one had transfixed him?"
"I don't like touching the razors, sir."
"You don't—you don't? He! he! What will he think when one touches him?" muttered Todd to himself as he turned aside and made a movement as though cutting a throat. "You don't like touching the razors, Charley?"
"No, sir, I thought you would be angry if I had, so the dog had all his own way here. I would have put the place to rights, but I thought you aught to see it as it is."
"Right, my boy—right. To-morrow will be quite time enough to put it to rights. Yes, to-morrow. Has any one called, Charley?"