he
puppets. He did not seem to have any hold upon the scene, and for
several minutes this sensation of vacancy chained him to the spot.

"All right!" exclaimed he to himself at last. "I am here. Now's my
time to make a strike. Now or never."

He pulled Mr. Bayard's card from his pocket, and fixed the number of
his store in his mind. Now, numbers were not a Riverdale institution,
and Bobby was a little perplexed about finding the one indicated. A
little study into the matter, however, set him right, and he soon had
the satisfaction of seeing the bookseller's name over his store.

"F. Bayard," he read; "this is the place."

"Country!" shouted a little ragged boy, who dodged across the street at
that moment.

"Just so, my beauty!" said Bobby, a little nettled at this imputation
of verdancy.

"What a greeny!" shouted the little vagabond from the other side of the
street.

"No matter, rag-tag! We'll settle that matter some other time."

But Bobby felt that there was something in his appearance which
subjected him to the remarks of others, and as he entered the shop, he
determined to correct it as soon as possible.

A spruce young gentleman was behind the counter, who cast a mischievous
glance at him as he entered.

"Mr. Bayard keep here?" asked Bobby.

"Well, I reckon he does. How are all the folks up country?" replied
the spruce clerk, with a rude grin.

"How are they?" repeated Bobby, the color flying to his cheek.

"Yes, ha-ow do they dew?"

"They behave themselves better than they do here."

"Eh, greeny?"

"Eh, sappy?" repeated Bobby, mimicking the soft, silky tones of the
young city gentleman.

"What do you mean by sappy?" asked the clerk, indignantly.

"What do you mean by greeny?"

"I'll let you know what I mean!"

"When you do, I'll let you know what I mean by sappy."

"Good!" exclaimed one of the salesmen, who had heard part of this
spirited conversation. "You will learn better by and by, Timmins, than
to impose upon boys from out of town."

"You seem to be a gentleman, sir," said Bobby, approaching the
salesman. "I wish to see Mr. Bayard."

"You can't see him!" growled Timmins.

"Can't I?"

"Not at this minute; he is engaged just now," added the salesman, who
seemed to have a profound respect for Bobby's discrimination. "He will
be at liberty in a few moments."

"I will wait, then," said Bobby, seating himself on a stool by the
counter.

Pretty soon the civil gentlema