“Well, when he drops, I don’t want to be exactly under him, for he looks like solid weight.”
“Ha—ha! When Uncle Bezaleel does come down on a man, he can drop heavy. Well, good–bye and good luck to you.”
Off swaggered Chauncy, his cap at one side of his head; his whole air that of some bragging money king, who had sallied forth to upset “the market” in behalf of himself; or to accomplish some other great feat of financial tumbling. Walter was left alone in the office. For awhile, he read a recent report of the life saving service; for the world that centered in the little building whose outlook and flags–taff he could see from Uncle Boardman’s storedoor, interested him exceedingly. Nobody appeared to interrupt him save a fly, that buzzed up to him vigorously, in Chauncy’s style, but buzzed back immediately at a wave of the hand, which was not Chauncy’s style.
“Ah,” said Walter, after an hour’s fascinating reading, “I hear a footstep. Somebody’s coming. A customer, probably.”
He let his book drop on the counter, and awaited this arrival. A young man entered, whom Walter thought he had seen before; but where, he could not readily say.
“He is not over twenty–one,” thought Walter. “He has a nice form.”
The young man had a frame of much symmetry, and the dress–coat that he wore, instead of the loose blouse common among the fishermen and farmers, brought out into distinct outline his well–shaped figure. Although his look was that of a rather strong excitement, which flushed his face, and gave it an unnatural eagerness, yet Walter was attracted toward him at once. A little girl, who bore some resemblance to the young man, closely followed him, clinging to the skirt of his coat. The young man appeared to be looking for something on one of the shelves, and with a twinkle of his blue eyes, and in musical, ringing tones, he called out, “In some stores, they say on a card, ‘If you don’t see a thing, ask for it.’”
“Well,” replied Walter, “Ask away. I would like to sell something to somebody.”
The young man did not lower his eyes to notice Walter, but continued to search with them the objects on the three shelves behind the counter.
“He can’t want soap, or matches, or that pile of mittens for fishermen,” thought Walter.