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"Have you time? I meant to ask the truckman, but----" "He may be too old to be a scout any more, but he's not too old to do a good turn," teased Mary. They entered the store where the marks of the departed store fixtures were visible along the walls and Schmitt's old counter stood against one side. Piles of Red Cross literature now lay upon it. Upon a rough makeshift table were boxes full of yarn (destined to keep many a long needle busy) and the place was full of the signs of its temporary occupancy. "If I hadn't joined the Red Cross already, I'd join now," said Tom, apologetically, displaying his button. "A girl in our office got me to join." "Wasn't she mean," said Mary. "I'm going to make you work anyhow, just out of spite." Other women now arrived, armed with no end of what Tom called "first aid stuff," and with bundles of long knitting needles, silent weapons for the great drive. Tom was glad enough to retreat before this advancing host and carry several large boxes into the cellar. Then he hauled the old grocery counter around so that the women working at it could be seen from the street. The table, too, he pulled this way and that, to suit the changing fancy of the ladies in authority. "There, I guess that's about right," said Mrs. Temple, eying it critically; "now, there's just one thing more--if you've time. There's a thing down in the cellar with little compartments, sort of----" "I know," said Tom; "the old spice cabinet." "I wonder if we could bring it up together," said Mrs. Temple. "I'll get it," Tom said. "You couldn't do it alone," said Mary. "I'll help." "I can do it better without anybody getting in the way," said Tom with characteristic bluntness, and Mary and her mother were completely squelched. "Gracious, now he has grown," said Mrs. Temple, as Tom disappeared downstairs. "His eyes used to be gray; they've changed," said Mary. As if that had anything to do with moving tables and spice cabinets! The spice cabinet stood against the brick chimney and was covered with thick dust. Behind it was a disused stove-pipe hole stuffed with rags, which Tom pulled out to brush the dust off the cabinet before lifting it. He had pushed it hardly two feet in the direction of the stairs when his coat caught on a nail and he struck a match to see if it had torn. The damage was slight, and, with his customary attention to details, he saw that the nail was one of several which h
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