On that especial day the services of both had been required.  They had arranged to give their full time, and Bart noted that never were there more industrious and enthusiastic colleagues.

There was the sound of active hammering as Bart entered the office, which Darry suspended long enough to remark: 

“How’s that for the audience?”

The office space proper containing the desk and the safe had been railed off, the express stuff in and out packed conveniently in one corner, and thus three-quarters of the room was given up solely to the requirements of the day.

A dozen rough benches filled in half the space.  Its other half, also railed off, held a heap of packages, bundles, boxes, barrels, a mass of heterogeneous plunder, packed up neatly, and convenient for handling.

Beside it was a raised platform, and this in turn held a rough board table on which lay a home-made gavel, and beside this was a high desk holding a blank book and a tin box.

What was “coming off” was the much advertised unclaimed package sale of the express company.

Bart had followed out the instructions received from Mr. Leslie, the superintendent, when he first took charge of the office at Pleasantville, and the sale and its details had been quite an element in his life during the past three weeks.

The various small offices in the division had sent in their uncalled for express matter, and this was now grouped under the present roof.

Mr. Haven, an ex-editor, had written up a good “puff” for a local paper, inserted gratis an exciting comment and anticipation in reference to the impending sale, and Darry and Bob had printed fifteen hundred dodgers on their home press, very neat and presentable in appearance, and these had been judiciously distributed for miles around, and posted up in stores and depots.

Bart had heard nothing further from the Harringtons—­not even the echo of a “thank you” had reached him.  Pleasantville for a day or two had been full of rumors as to the express robbery, but Bart decided to say very little about it, and only his intimate friends knew the actual circumstances.

McCarthy, the night watchman, however, accidentally spread Bart’s fame in the right direction.  He had a cousin working for the express company in the city to whom he told the story.  It got to the ears of the superintendent of the express company.

Bart received a letter from Mr. Leslie the next day, requiring a circumstantial report of the stolen trunk.  He answered this and received a prompt reply, directing him thereafter to always report such happenings at once, but his zeal and shrewdness were heartily commended, and a check for twenty-five dollars for extra services was inclosed.

The twenty-five dollars Bart received was the nest egg of a fund being saved up for his father’s benefit.

Mr. Stirling could now distinguish night from day, and in a few weeks they intended to take him to an expert oculist in the city for special treatment.