. Bobby set himself to reading it. "First Prize," he deciphered, "A

Castellanos Lindamood keegan at radio90fm.nl
Mon Aug 31 04:34:50 PDT 2009


 not have to fill that wood-box at a cent a time. Against the walls at
either end of the room and next the windows were two roll-top desks at
which sat Mr. Orde and his partner. Two or three pivoted chairs
completed the furnishings. "Hullo, Bobby," called Mr. Orde, who was
talking earnestly to a man; "I'll be ready in a few minutes." Nothing
pleased Bobby more than to wander about the place with its delicious
"office smell." At one end of the room, nailed against the wall, were
rows and rows of beautifully polished models of the firm's different
tugs, barges and schooners. Bobby surveyed them with both pleasure and
regret. It seemed a shame that such delightful boats should have been
built only in half and nailed immovably to boards. Against another wall
were maps, and a real deer's head. Everywhere hung framed photographs of
logging camps and lumbering operations. From any one of the six long
windows he could see the street below, and those who passed along it.
Time never hung heavy at the office. When Mr. Orde had finished his
business, he put on his hat, and the big man, the little boy and the
grave, black and white setter dog walked down the long dark hall, down
the steps, and around the corner to the livery stable. Here they climbed
into one of the light and graceful buggies which were at that time a
source of such pride to their owners, and flashed out into the street
behind Mr. Orde's celebrated team. Duke's gravity at this juncture
deserted him completely. Life now meant something besides duty. Ears
back, mouth wide, body extended, he flew away. Faster and fas
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