From his butcher shop near by, Moses Sagger looked at the knot of
earnestly talking lads. To him that meant but one thing.
"Them boys is hatching some mischief," he said to his helper. "They're
going to play some trick, I'll bet an apple."
"And I guess it's a rotten apple at that," thought Sidney Balder, who
worked for Mr. Sagger. "He's too mean to bet a good apple."
"Better keep your eyes open for them boys," went on the butcher.
"They'll tip over one of my barrels of potatoes outside, or throw mud
in on my floor, or something. Guess you'd better bring in all the
stuff from outside, until they go away."
"I don't believe they'll touch anything, Mr. Sagger," declared Sidney,
who did not fancy having to bring in all the boxes and barrels from in
front of the shop, and take them out again.
"Yes, they will! I know boys! They're always playing tricks. Bring the
things in."
So Sidney had to do it, laboring hard, and all to no purpose, for no
sooner had he brought the produce in, than Bert and his chums passed
on down the street, not bestowing so much as a glance at the butcher
shop. They were too occupied thinking of the prospective fire
department.
Pages:
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48