"Mr. Antis always tells me to lay them on his desk, sir. He is afraid they may be mislaid."
"Humph!" said Mr. Francis, his temper by no means improved by finding himself in the wrong. "You are a wise pair, no doubt."
"So the boss has got to catch it, too," thought Eben. "Well, misery loves company, they say."
"You may count up those bags of Dennison's, Eben, and have them ready when he comes," said Mr. Antis. "Don't be out of the way, and, Eben—"
Eben came back to where Mr. Antis was standing by the office door. Mr. Antis whispered:
"Just run round to the house and tell Mrs. Antis, the old gentleman is here, and she must be sure to have a good dinner; and if you would get your mother to go up and help her—"
"I guess she can," answered Eben. "Ma is at Mrs. Badger's, close by. I'll run and tell her."
"Do; but come back as soon as you can." Eben's errands necessarily took a little time. He found Mrs. Antis terribly alarmed at the prospect of having to get dinner for the great man, especially as Mary had burnt her hands and could be of little use.
"Oh, do get your mother to come if you can," said she. "Tell her I will do anything for her, if she will."
"She won't mind the trouble, if only she can get away from that Badger baby," replied Eben. "I'll do my best, but I must hurry."