"I want some Parker's floor-polish and a pint of linseed—"
Uncle Rob interrupted him. "We don't keep floor-polish," he said; "This is a book store."
The man glanced around. "Oh, I thought it was the drug store," he said, and grabbed up his bottle and made for the door.
"There," I said, "he's turned the wrong way!" The drug store is a block below here; but the front is just like ours;—that's how he made the mistake. Oh, now he's on the right track," for he came by again, going two steps at a jump, and the old bottle swinging ahead of him; then suddenly he caught a glimpse of the window, stopped, whirled and rushed in and up to Uncle Rob and slammed the bottle down on the counter.
"I want some Parker's floor-polish and a pint—"
"We don't keep floor-polish. This is a book store," said Uncle Rob, in exactly the same tone that he had used before.
The man started, and looked at him, and then grabbed the bottle and dashed out of the store.
"Guess he thinks the drug store closes at six," said Uncle Rob; and we went to the other side
