CHAPTER XI.
A COMICAL COMET.
The business of the printing-office went on pretty steadily, so far as Ned and I were concerned. Phaeton's passion for invention would occasionally lead him off for a while into some other enterprise; yet he, too, seemed to take a steady interest in "the art deservative." The most notable of those enterprises was originated by Monkey Roe, who had considerable invention, but lacked Phaeton's powers of execution.
One day Monkey came to the door of the office with Mitchell's "Astronomy" in his hand, and called out Phaeton.
"There's some mischief on foot now," said Ned; "and if Fay goes off fooling with any of Monkey Roe's schemes, we shall hardly be able to print the two thousand milk-tickets that John Spencer ordered yesterday. It's too bad."
When they had gone so far from the office that we could not hear their conversation, I saw Monkey open the book and point out something to Phaeton. They appeared to carry on an earnest discussion for several minutes, after which they laid the book on the railing of the fence and disappeared, going by the postern.
Ned ran out, and brought in the book. On looking it over, we found a leaf turned down at the chapter on comets. Neither of us had studied astronomy.
"I know what they're up to," said Ned, after taking a long look at a picture of Halley's comet. "I heard the other day that Mr. Roe was learning the art of stuffing birds. I suppose Monkey wants Fay to help him shoot one of those things, or catch it alive, may be, and sell it to his father."
Then I took a look at the picture, and read a few lines of the text.
"I don't think it's quite fair in Fay," continued Ned, "to go off on speculations of that sort for himself alone, and leave us here to do all the work in the office, when he has an equal share of our profits."