noon
He was selling fly-paper on commission for his friend , the druggist . It was that sticky kind , called `` Tanglefoot , '' that promises such a pleasant path to the unwary insect , but proves such a snare and a delusion at the last . Mrs. Walters waved him good-bye from the kitchen door as he started hopefully off , bare-footed and happy , with a smile all over his little , round , honest face . He came back at noon with forty cents and a glowing account of his morning 's work . `` I might have made more , '' he said , `` but Mrs. Carr asked me to play with the baby while she ran across the street to ask about another cook . Hers is gone , and she was afraid to leave the baby by itself while she hunted another . Then when I stopped at Mrs. Foster 's , the professor 's wife , you know , she was nearly crying .