Bert wondered what his father would say if he knew that Sam was spreading his wings and preparing to fly.
Another day and no word of the verdict. That night Bert, unable to restrain longer his impatience, went down to Washington Avenue and waited until the lights went out and Sam and his father came away, separating outside the store. Watching Sam's approach, he suddenly thought it might be better to meet the clerk as though the encounter were by chance. Whistling, he sauntered up the avenue, his gaze turned toward the shop windows as though their varied displays were new and captivating to his eyes.
"Hello, there," said Sam.
The start of surprise he gave was well-acted. "Hello, Sam. What are you doing here? I thought the store had closed long ago."
"We've been dressing up stock. It takes time. A business that never spruces up is like a man who always wears the same suit. I thought you'd be around to see me."
"Oh," Bert said carelessly, "I wanted to give you a couple of more days to think it over."
"I've come to a decision," said Sam.
Bert waited; but the clerk, his brows knit, seemed lost in a last aspect of the enterprise. And at that all Bert's assumed ease fled and left him with only a stricken thought that the judgment had gone against him.
