It was much the same, perhaps a little worse, when they entered the hardware shop and the office. The rows and rows of little drawers and boxes, each with samples of its contents--screws, or bolts, or hooks, or knobs--affixed to its front, were even more boring than the lumber piles. There was a countryfied, middle-aged person in overalls sweeping out the shop and Captain Zelotes introduced him. “Albert,” he said, “this is Mr. Issachar Price, who works around the place here. Issy, let me make you acquainted with my grandson, Albert.” Mr. Price, looking over his spectacles, extended a horny hand and observed: “Yus, yus. Pleased to meet you, Albert. I've heard tell of you.” Albert's private appraisal of “Issy” was that the latter was another funny Rube. Whatever Issy's estimate of his employer's grandson might have been, he, also, kept it to himself. Captain Zelotes looked about the shop and glanced into the office. “Humph!” he grunted. “No sign or symptoms of Laban this mornin', I presume likely?” Issachar went on with his sweeping. “Nary one,” was his laconic reply. “Humph! Heard anything about him?” Mr. Price moistened his broom in a bucket of water. “I see Tim Kelley on my way down street,” he said. “Tim said he run afoul of Laban along about ten last night. Said he cal'lated Labe was on his way. He was singin' 'Hyannis on the Cape' and so Tim figgered he'd got a pretty fair start already.” The captain shook his head. “Tut, tut, tut!” he muttered. “Well, that means I'll have to do office work for the next week or so. Humph! I declare it's too bad just now when I was countin' on him to--” He did not finish the sentence, but instead turned to his grandson and said: “Al, why don't you look around the hardware store here while I open the mail and the safe. If there's anything you see you don't understand Issy'll tell you about it.” He went into the office. Albert sauntered listlessly to the window and looked out. So far as not understanding anything in the shop was concerned he was quite willing to remain in ignorance. It did not interest him in the least. A moment later he felt a touch on his elbow. He turned, to find Mr. Price standing beside him. “I'm all ready to tell you about it now,” volunteered the unsmiling Issy. “Sweepin's all finished up.” Albert was amused. “I guess I can get along,” he said. “Don't worry.” “_I_ ain't worried none. I don't believe in worryin'; worryin' don't do folks no good, the way I look at it. But long's Cap'n Lote wants me to tell you about the hardware I'd ruther do it now, than any time. Henry Cahoon's team'll be here for a load of lath in about ten minutes or so, and then I'll have to leave you. This here's the shelf where we keep the butts--hinges, you understand. Brass along here, and iron here. Got quite a stock, ain't we.”