Markham looked up quickly, hesitated, gave a sigh, and started rapidly down the walk.
"I'll have it over and done with, soon as he comes back," reflected Frank. "Poor fellow. Something's on his mind. I'm going to help him get rid of it."
Frank resumed his task. He was soon engrossed in finishing up a page of writing.
"Good," he said finally, with satisfaction, "the last copy for the catalogue. It will make twenty-four printed pages. The cuts I have had made and the cuts the supply houses have loaned me make a very fine showing. Well, the first two weeks show up pretty good. Business started, and paying expenses. Why, that's queer," exclaimed Frank with a start, as he chanced to glance at the clock—"Markham has been gone a full half-hour."
It was queer. Markham had less than three squares to go on his errand. Usually he made the trip to Haven Bros, in five minutes.
Frank walked to the door and looked out. He stood there, growing restless and anxious, as ten minutes went by. Then he grew restless, put on his cap, waited five minutes longer, and, closing the office door, went out to the street.
