Now by this time Mr. Tisbett was convinced that the most important business in all this world was to get Joel and David and start them on that long-promised ride over to Cherryville on top of his stage-coach. The invitation, with a message “to be lively and not keep me waiting,” had been sent to them only the afternoon before. Mr. Tisbett had left it at the village store to be delivered to one of the Pepper children or their mother, it being the day when Mr. Atkins expected some coats to be called for. But Phronsie had been sick and fretfully clung to Mother Pepper, and as Polly had a great deal more work to do than usually fell to her share, the coats were not called for, of course. And as a consequence, Mr. Atkins promptly forgot all about the matter until shutting-up time came.
“Oh, good gracious, Jonah!” he exclaimed, slapping the counter and looking up with a very distressed face; “if I haven’t clean forgot all about Mr. Tisbett’s takin’ them Pepper boys to ride to-morrow.” He ran to the door and looked up and down the long dusty road. There wasn’t a sign of a person, to say nothing of a stray boy.
“They’d be thick as a swarm if you didn’t want ’em,” said the storekeeper, discomfited. “I declare, I’ll go myself.” He pulled off his old linen coat on the way to his home, which was entered by a door from the shop leading into the ell.
“I’m goin’ out, Sarah,” he said in a high sharp key, not made pleasanter by smelling the hot beefsteak pie he knew was being borne to the supper table at this very moment.
“Hey?” Mrs. Atkins set down the pie in its place before his plate and stared at him.
“I said I was goin’ out,” repeated the storekeeper, irritably, and turning his back to the pie, while he wriggled into his out-of-door coat hanging behind the kitchen door.
Mrs. Atkins deserted the supper table to run over and look at his face. “You goin’ out before supper?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Atkins, sharply, and pulling his coat sleeves down; “’cause I know I won’t do it after, for no one,” it being the storekeeper’s nightly habit to fall asleep after his evening meal in the big easy-chair, and when he awoke from that, he would have neither inclination nor time to make evening calls. “I’ll tell you about it when I get home, Sarah,” and he crammed his hat on his head and started for the door.
Sarah Atkins ran around him to get there first. “You’ll tell me now, Silas,” she said quietly; “where on earth are you goin’ without your supper?”
“Down to Mis’ Pepper’s,” said the storekeeper, brought to bay.