Then off he went, mozying through the congested aisles, with that vacuous stare about him that is assumed, usually, by a Jehue in a vaudeville show. Eli followed him, very closely, watching very sharply, being suspicious all the time that he might pick up a stray pin and carry it off without just compensation to his close-fisted master. The stranger strayed on, in and out, in and out, among the junkage, till he came at last to the cubby-hole, eyed through at that moment by old Peter. Arriving at the entrance of Peter's sanctuary, the stranger stopped, looked about him listlessly, and took hold of the latch of the door, pressed his thumb slowly upon it, opened it, and walked within, without invitation, or concern as to who might be the occupant therein--bear or man. "Good morning," said Peter, eyeing him suspiciously. "What do you want?" "Well, sir," answered the stranger, "I just stepped in a moment to see if you could supply me with a kit of tools." "This is my office, sir; my office," said Peter, cross as a she-bear. "Why didn't you ask my clerk, sir; my clerk?"--now rubbing his hands briskly and leering at the stranger. "He will supply your wants, maybe, sir, if he has what you want." "I always deal with the proprietor of an establishment," remarked the stranger, seating himself. "No harm in that, I reckon, sir?" "None," returned Peter, with a growl. "None, sir." "Then, do you have a kit of burglar tools?" asked the stranger, with a suavity of an oily-tongued vender of patent medicine. Peter looked him over again more critically, eyed him more suspiciously, growled out an unintelligible word or two, and sat down himself in a corner, but in such a position that he still could keep one eye on his loophole of observance. "No, sir!" deliberately groaned out Peter, "I never carry such articles by choice." "Then by chance, perhaps?" questioned the stranger. "Nor by chance, if I can help it," screeched the crusty Peter. "I am an honest dealer in my wares." "I presume so," returned the stranger, with his eyes roaming about the four bare walls of the cubby-hole, as if he were unwinding his thoughts preparatory to a plunge into the secrets of something hidden within his breast. "You doubt my word, sir?" said Peter, on his dignity. "Your veracity, I presume," calmly remarked the stranger, "is equal to the rest of men in business." "It is, sir," answered Peter, foaming. "Well, if you have not got what I want, I must leave your place without it," said the stranger, with a nonchalance that caused Peter to squint one of his little eyes up like a question mark. "I am a fair dealer in all things, I am, sir," retorted Peter, "and I don't like for strangers coming about here and eyeing as if I was in league with criminals, or any other such disreputables."