Eddy went straight through the store to the office. The door stood open, and the little place was empty except for the cat, which cast a lazy glance at him from under a half-closed lid, stretched, displaying his claws, and began to purr loudly. Eddy went over to the cat and took him up in his arms and carried him out into the main store, where William Price stood behind the counter. He was alone in the store.
“Say,” said Eddy, “where's Mr. Anderson?”
“He's gone out,” replied the clerk, with a kind look at the boy. He had lost one of his own years ago, and Eddy, in spite of his innocent superciliousness, appealed to him.
“Where?” asked Eddy. The cat wriggled in his arms and jumped down. Then he rolled over ingratiatingly at his feet. Eddy stooped down and rubbed the shining, furry stomach.
“He took the net he catches butterflies with,” replied the old clerk, “and I guess he's gone to walk in the fields somewhere.”
“I should think it was pretty late for butterflies,” said Eddy. He straightened himself and looked very hard at the glass jar of molasses-balls on the shelf behind the clerk.
“There might be a stray one,” said William Price. “It's a warm day.”
“Shucks!” said Eddy. “Say, how much are those a pound?”
The clerk glanced around at the jar of molasses-balls. “Twenty-five cents,” replied he.
“Guess I'll take a pound,” said Eddy. “I 'ain't got any money with me, but I'll pay you the next time I come in.”