"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