“Perhaps you had better. Here is the money,” and the doctor held out several bills. “Do you want that book you have under your arm?” asked Mr. Townsend with a laugh, pointing to a small volume, almost hidden by the big sleeve of the doctor’s coat. “Have I a book there? Why, bless my soul, so I have! I remember now, I took it down to look up a certain fact about how the Chinese use opium to deaden pain in sickness. It is just like a book I have, only mine is an earlier edition. I think I will take this. You may wrap it up with the others. Queer, how forgetful I am becoming. Now be sure those books are up to my house to-night.” “They’ll be there,” Mr. Townsend assured the physician, as Tom went to the counter to wrap them up. Dr. Spidderkins took his departure, and soon after this, Tom was told he could go out and get some lunch. He did not eat an elaborate meal and was soon back at his place. During the afternoon he went on a number of errands, arranged several shelves of books, dusted off long rows of volumes, and waited on one or two customers. “I’m beginning to learn the book business,” thought the lad proudly, after he had made his third sale without an error. True they were only small ones, involving the purchase of a pad, a pencil, and the last one being a small book, purchased by a girl. But they meant a lot to Tom. “It will be closing time in half an hour,” remarked one of the younger clerks to Tom. “Do you live far from here?” “Not very. About half an hour’s walk. But I thought you kept open late during the holidays?” “We will, beginning next week. It will be ten o’clock every night then, but we get supper money.” “That’s good,” remarked Tom. “Here, what’s this!” suddenly exclaimed Mr. Townsend, as he saw the bundle of books which Tom had wrapped up for Dr. Spidderkins. “Haven’t these books been called for by the expressman?” “No, sir,” replied the clerk, in charge of that part of the work. “This will never do,” went on the proprietor. “The doctor wants the books to-night. Call up the express office and see if they are coming.” The clerk put the telephone into operation, and presently reported to Mr. Townsend: “He says the man forgot to call on his afternoon trip, and it’s too late now.” “That’s too bad!” exclaimed Mr. Townsend. “Those books must go to Dr. Spidderkins to-night, or he’ll be very much disappointed, and he’s too good a customer to disappoint. Tom, you had better jump on a car and take them to him. Do you know your way around the Back Bay district?” The Back Bay district is the section of Boston where are located the residences of the rich, and it is quite exclusive. “I guess I can find the place, sir,” said Tom confidently, though he had only been in the locality a few times. “Well, here is your car fare. Be careful of the books now, as some of them are quite expensive. Be on hand early in the morning.”