The boy bought the articles his father wanted, and
having pocketed his change, cleared his throat, preparatory to saying
a good word for himself.
"Mr. Jones, if you please, sar, Dave done sent me down here this
mornin' to ax you would you give me somethin' fur myself, if you
please, sar--some shoes an' sich like."
"Certainly," replied the grocer, readily, and Dan was surprised to
see that he held out his hand as if he expected to receive something.
"I hain't got no money," said Dan.
"That makes no difference. I don't want any money from David."
"Then I'll take a pair of them amazin' fine lookin' shoes of
your'n--number nines, please, sar."
"All right. Hand out the order."
"Sar!" exclaimed Dan, opening his eyes.
"Why, if David doesn't come here himself and tell me to give you the
things, he must send a written order."
"Dave, he done told me to git 'em," faltered Dan.
"I don't doubt it; but in order to have things straight, you go home
and get an order for such things as you want and I'll give them to
you."
Dan gathered the articles which he had purchased for his father under
one arm, took his rifle under the other, backed slowly away from the
counter and went out of the store.
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