Tom Slade on a Transport

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As Tom Slade went through Terrace Avenue on his way to the Temple Camp office, where he was employed, he paused beside a truck backed up against the curb in front of a certain vacant store. Upon it was a big table and wrestling with the table was Pete Connigan, the truckman-the very same Pete Connigan at whom Tom used to throw rocks and whom he had called a mick. It reminded him of old times to see Pete. The vacant store, too, aroused dubious memories, for there he had stolen many an apple in the days when Adolf Schmitt had his cash grocery on the premises, and used to stand in the doorway with his white apron on, shaking his fist as Tom scurried down the street and calling, I’ll strafe you, you young loafer!