"That is Mr. Jones," remarked Mr. Follinsby, waving his hand toward the gentleman.
"Are you the chairman of the Committee on decorating the St. Stevens' church?"
This question was so wholly unexpected by Mr. Jones, who supposed the boy had come to ask charity; or perhaps to seek a place as errand boy in his store, that for one moment he did not answer, but sat eyeing the lad with a perplexed smile, then he said:
"Hem! Yes, I'm the one."
"Have you engaged your evergreens for Christmas, sir?"
"For Christmas? Ha! Ha! Ha! We haven't begun to think of Christmas yet, my little fellow."
"I want to engage the job, if you please. I'll supply the evergreen as cheap as any body. I know, it's a good while before Christmas; but mother says it's best to be in season when you're to do any thing."
He said all this in such a matter-of-fact way, as though he had been used to business of the kind for years, that Mr. Jones, after a glance at his friend, burst into a hearty laugh, in which the boy joined with perfect good humor.
"What is your name?" was the next question.
"Richard Monroe Stuart, sir."