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.