that she had not known the money was in the book.
Instead, it belonged to the store, and had somehow got tucked between
the leaves by mistake. A revolving door gave to the bookshop. He entered
one section of it and half circled his way in.

Never in his boldest imaginings had he thought of such a place as he saw
now. It was lofty and long, with glistening counters of glass to one
side. But elsewhere there were just books! books! books!--great
partitions of them, walls solidly faced with them, the floor piled with
them man-high. He forgot why he had come in, forgot his big clothes, his
bare feet, his girl's hair, the new blue book, and the dollar.

"Yes? Well? What d' you want?"

It was a man speaking, and rather sharply. He was a red-headed man, and
he wore spectacles. He came to stand in front of Johnnie, as if to keep
the latter from going farther into the shop.

Johnnie held up the new book. "A lady bought me this," he explained;
"and when I opened it I found all this money." Now he held out the
dollar.

There were many people in the store. Some of them had on their hats,
others were bareheaded, as if they belonged there. A number quietly
gathered about Johnnie and the red-haired man, looking and listening.
Johnnie gave each a swift examination. They were all so well-dressed, so
different from the tenants in the area building.

"The lady slipped the dollar into the book for you," declared the
red-headed man. "Wasn't that mighty nice of her?"

Johnnie silently agreed. A dozen pairs of eyes were watching him, and so
many strange people were embarrassing. He began slowly to back toward
the revolving door.

"What're you going to buy with your dollar, little boy?" asked a man in
the group--a tall man whose smile disclosed a large, gold tooth.

The question halted Johnnie. Such a wonderful idea occurred to him. The
dollar was his own, to do with as he liked. And what he wanted most----

"I'm goin' to buy some more books with it," he answered. And turned
aside to one of the great piles.

There was more laughter at that, and a burst of low conversation.
Johnnie paid no attention to it, but appealed to the red-headed man.
"What's the best book y' got?" he inquired, with quite the air of a
seasoned shopper.

Again there was laughter. But it seemed to be not only kind but
complimentary--as if once more he had said something clever or amusing.
However, Johnnie kept his attention on the red-headed man.

"Well, I'm