CHAPTER XII
HOP O’ MY THUMB
“NOW, David, ef you warn’t here,” said Mr. Atkins, “I couldn’t go off this morning.”
“Couldn’t you, Mr. Atkins?” said David happily, over in the corner dusting the cans of peas and beans piled on the shelves, and he whirled around, the dust-cloth in his hand.
“No, never in all this world,” the storekeeper smote his hands together smartly. “Now you see, Davie, what a help you be to me.”
“I’m so glad I’m a help to you, Mr. Atkins,” cried Davie, the color all over his face, and his heart going like a trip-hammer.
“I’ve got to go over to Simon Beeton’s farm to see about them potatoes,” said Mr. Atkins, “for he’d cheat me out of my eye-teeth ef I bought ’em without seein’. An’ now I can leave so easy in my mind, Davie, seein’ you are here.”
Davie’s bosom swelled, and he stood quite still. Oh, how glad Mamsie will be! And how good it was that Mr. Atkins’ eye-teeth were now not in any danger.
“An’ you can take th’ orders, David,” said Mr. Atkins, hurrying over to the counter to pick up the slate; “you can write so nice an’ plain now, that I’ll know all what folks want when I get back.”
David longed to ask, “Can’t I give ’em the things they want?” But Mother Pepper had told him the first morning that he went to the grocery store, not to ask Mr. Atkins if he might do anything, but to wait to be told.
“An’ some time—maybe the next time I go tradin’, you may wait on th’ customers,” said Mr. Atkins encouragingly, “so you must learn all you can, David.”