the floor. He washed the cement floor with the hose, and while waiting for it to dry he rinsed his brushes in turpentine.
To tell the truth, Henry had found a few things in the rubbish which he had stored in his own pocket. The treasure consisted in this case of a quantity of bent and rusty nails of all sizes, and a few screws and nuts.
When Dr. McAllister returned at six o'clock he found Henry corking up the turpentine and arranging the brushes on the shelf.
"My word!" he exclaimed, staring at his garage with his mouth open. Then he threw back his head and laughed till his mother came down the walk to see what the matter was.
"Look at my gloves, Mother," he said, wiping his eyes. "All mated up. They never met each other before, that I remember."
Mrs. McAllister looked the garage over, and observed the newly labeled drawers. Her son opened one of them, and looked at his four hammers.
"My tack hammer, Mother," he said, "your tack hammer, and two other hammers! That last one I never expected to see again. If you can use it, you may have it, my boy."
