e shop is dark an' spooky, an'--Well, I went in, and there
wasn't nobody there, on'y him and me."

Mike stopped, and after a pause Chris said, "So what?"

[Illustration]

"So--" Mike swallowed. "So I said I was there about the job, an' do
you know what he said? He said"--he went on without urging, but with a
frown of perplexity ridging his forehead--"He said, 'Turn around and
look out that window, son, and tell me what you see.'"

Mike stopped and looked at Chris with a comical expression. "Everybody
knows what's outside his window!" he burst out. "Of all the silly
things! But I turned around and looked, like he told me to, and of
course there was the traffic goin' by, and trucks, and cabs, and
people crossin' the street, and the freeway overhead, an'--_you_
know."

"So what did he say?" Chris asked, and for the first time that day the
heavy weight he carried within him lifted and lightened a little.

Mike examined the toe of his worn shoe. "Oh, he just smiled, that
funny little crackly smile, and said, 'I'm sorry, young man, you won't
do.'"

[Illustration]

For a moment both boys stared into one another's eyes, each
questioning, wondering, and neither being able to supply the answer.

At last, Chris broke the silence.

"Queerest thing I ever heard. Gee! Whaddaya suppose?"

Mike took heart, his experience believed and his bafflement shared. He
spoke cheerfully. "It doesn't make sense, but old Wicker's so old he
may be addled, don't you reckon? Who else would keep an antique store
where nobody ever looks? All the other antique places are along
Wisconsin Avenue where people go to shop."

"You reckon Jakey really could use the job?" Chris asked, his courage
ebbing as he pictured to himself the dark little shop with its bow
window of small panes, and Mr. Wicker, so thin and wizened he seemed
only bones and wrinkles. "Think he really needs it?" he pursued.

But Mike was certain, or perhaps he needed a companion in this curious
experiment.

"You bet he does! He tol' me at noon today he wished he could find
something that would help bring some money in. His mother's sick," he
repeated, "an' Jakey don' look so good himself."

"Well--" Chris said, half agreeing.

"I'll go with ya!" Mike announced, as if that finished the argument;
which, as a matter of fact, it did.

Chris did not feel too happy about his mission and hung back a moment
longer, looking in the Pep Boys' window at things he had already seen.