"You'll do, Frank," he observed with enthusiasm—"decidedly, you'll do! You got the moving done at just half what I expected to pay, and collected twenty dollars and a half we never knew a word about."
"Then you want me to go on getting the burned stuff in order, do you?" inquired Frank.
"Certainly—that was all understood, wasn't it? I'll try and drop around to-day or to-morrow and take a look at the plunder, just out of curiosity. As to getting it in shape for my client's inspection, I leave that in your able charge exclusively."
"Thank you," said Frank.
Nelson Cady was piping a cheery whistle in front of the store when Frank got home.
"Got no letter yet," he announced in his old important way, "so I reckon I can give you a lift, Frank."
"Good for you," commended Frank. "You know how to work all right when you want to, Nelson."
Frank unlocked the store door with a proud sense of proprietorship. Both entered the long, rambling room.
"Now then. Nelson," said Frank, "I offer you ten cents an hour, and make you superintendent of the little plant here."
