He was entirely satisfied with its contents, but the other
boy was not so well satisfied with the contents of his. When Bert
picked up his riding-whip and turned to leave the store, he saw Bob
leaning against the counter, mechanically folding his letter, while
his eyes were fastened upon the floor, at which he was scowling
savagely.
"What's the matter?" asked Bert. "No bad news, I hope."
"Well, it is bad news," replied Bob, so snappishly, that Bert was
sorry that he had spoken to him at all. "You see, I found an
advertisement in one of your father's papers, asking for live quails.
I wrote to the man that I could furnish them, and I have just
received an answer from him, stating that he has already sent
the order to another party, and one who lives in my immediate
neighborhood. What's the matter with you?" exclaimed Bob, as Bert
broke out into a cheery laugh.
"When did you write to him?" asked Bert.
"On the very day I borrowed the paper."
"Well, Don was just three days ahead of you. I've got the order in my
pocket."
"What do you and Don want to go into the trapping business for?"
asked Bob, with ill-concealed disgust. "You don't need the money."
"Neither do you," replied Bert.
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