Bob the Castaway

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."

"It runs fast in hot weather," observed the storekeeper.

"What is it all about?" asked Mr. Henderson.

Then Mr. Hodge explained, dwelling on the pain he ha