They lived in some rooms over the store.
"Your supper's ready, William," she said.
"I guess supper'll have to wait to-night."
"Why?"
"'Cause I'm goin' to see if I can't collect damages from Enos
Henderson fer what his son done."
"What's that?"
Mr. Hodge explained, and his wife agreed with him that it would be
wise first to try what a personal demand would do.
It was about six o'clock when Mr. Hodge reached the Henderson home.
Mr. Henderson stopped work at five, and he was at supper when the
storekeeper entered. Bob knew the object of the visit, and, making
an excuse that he wanted to see one of his boy chums, was about to
leave the table.
"My business is with him, too," said Mr. Hodge in rather surly
tones.
"With Bob?" asked Mr. Henderson, and his heart sank. He realized
that his son must have been up to some prank in which the
storekeeper was involved, for Mr. Hodge was not a person to pay
friendly calls.
"Yes. I've come t' see if ye'll settle my claim fer damages
without a lawsuit."
"A lawsuit?" inquired Mr. Henderson, now becoming quite alarmed,
while Bob's mother grew pale. Bob himself, not a little frightened
as the result of his joke, sank down in a chair,
"I want damages fer personal injuries, as well as fer five gallons
of molasses that run to waste."
"It couldn't have been more than three gallons," interrupted Bob.
"Molasses runs awful slow, and the spigot wasn't open more than
three minutes.
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