Adventure stories; Automobiles -- Juvenile fiction; New York (State) -- Fiction; Teenage boys -- Fiction
The sample-cases reached Dunlop and Toll’s ten minutes late, for Mr.
Duff had never learned to do anything in a hurry. But the traveling man
had evidently not relied very implicitly on Tom’s promise to get them
there inside of twenty minutes and seemed quite satisfied. He handed
Willard fifty cents and Willard added two dimes to it and passed the
amount over to Mr. Duff.
“Now remember,” he said sternly, “you’re to hustle when I give you any
checks. By the way, if you aren’t at the corner of Walnut Street, where
can I find you?”
Mr. Duff shook his head slowly. “I dunno. I might be most anywhere, I
s’pose. Just you write the order on the slate and I’ll see it.”
“Oh, you have a slate, have you? Where is it?”
“On the post at the corner. Leastways, it’s there mostly, when the boys
don’t steal it on me.”
“All right. If you’re not there I’ll write on the slate and you’ll find
the checks at the station. I’ll tell the agent to give them to you.
Understand, do you?”
Mr. Duff nodded calmly. “S’pose I do,” he murmured, as he ambled back
to his wagon.
Tom, who had remained to make certain that the sample-cases arrived
safely, grinned as Willard joined him. “Smart, wide-awake old chap,
isn’t he?” he laughed.
“He’s a wonder!” agreed Willard. “Actually, it took him ten minutes to
get those two cases from the platform to his wagon, Tom! But he will
have to do. I’ve arranged with him to look after all our baggage and so
Connors needn’t worry us.”
“I wonder,” said Tom, as he headed The Ark toward Willard’s house, “if
it would pay us to have a horse and wagon of our own?”
“I thought of that,” replied Willard. “I don’t believe it would,
hardly. They say it costs about six dollars a week to feed a horse,
and――――”
“Six dollars a week!” exclaimed Tom. “What on? Chicken and asparagus?”
“Oats and hay. It’s a fact. Feed is awfully high. Then there’d be the
price of the horse and wagon.”
“We might hire them,” reflected Tom. “Well, we will see how your friend
Mr. Duff gets along. He may do all right.”
“He’d be fine,” laughed Willard, “if folks weren’t particular about
getting their trunks the day they arrived!”
On the whole, however, Mr. Duff proved, during the next fortnight,
fairly satisfactory. Several times, when he had trunks to deliver to
different addresses he managed to get them mixed and so left them at
the wrong places, and he was exasperatingly slow, but for that matter
Connors himself was far from infallible and Audelsville was not very
exacting in such matters.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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