“Still, I think we ought to try,” said Willard. “And, look here, Tom, if they won’t let us stand opposite the hotel maybe they’ll let us have a place further down-town.”
“Perhaps; but that wouldn’t be much good. Folks from Meechin’s wouldn’t walk far to get us, especially if they had bags.”
“N-no, but we might pick up townsfolks now and then. Anyway, I think we’d better make an application. We’ll ask for the place we want. If we can’t have that we’ll take what they give us. I’m glad they can’t stop us from standing at the station.”
“They would if they could,” said Tom. “Connors has made up his mind to fight, I guess.”
“Let him! I sort of like a scrap. Anyway, he can’t do any more than he has done.”
But Willard was mistaken there.
CHAPTER XVII
“J. DUFF, JOBBING DONE”
“I’ve got two sample cases, son, to go to Dunlop and Toll’s. Here are the checks. Rustle ’em right up, will you?”
The speaker, a nattily attired traveling salesman who had just arrived on the 11:34 train, handed the two bits of pasteboard to Tom and, with a sharp look at his watch, settled himself in The Ark. “Be sure and have them up there at the side door inside fifteen minutes, son. I want to skip back on the six o’clock.”