"I'm
through with him. He's a Bolshevik!"
"He has the Bolshevist possessive eye," agreed Willy Cameron,
readily. "Does he know you are through with him? Because that's
important, too. You may know it, and I may know it, but if he
doesn't know it--"
"Why don't you say right out you don't want to take me?" Willy
Cameron's chivalrous soul was suddenly shocked. To his horror he
saw tears in Miss Boyd's eyes.
"I'm just a plain idiot, Miss Edith," he said. "I was only fooling.
It will mean a lot to me to have a nice girl go with me to the
movies, or anywhere else. We'll make it to-night, if that suits you,
and I'll take a look through the neighborhood at noon and see what's
worth while."
The Eagle Pharmacy was a small one in a quiet neighborhood. During
the entire day, and for three evenings a week, Mr. William Wallace
Cameron ran it almost single-handed, having only the preoccupied
assistance of Miss Boyd in the candy and fancy goods. At the noon
and dinner hours, and four evenings a week, he was relieved by the
owner, Mr. Davis, a tired little man with large projecting ears and
worried, child-like eyes, who was nursing an invalid wife at home.
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