ved and mother might be anxious over this trip--his first
alone--to town.

He passed through the revolving doors for the second time that day and
stopped short in the brilliantly lighted street. He'd forgotten about
Louise! But perhaps some one would make a purchase for him later.

He passed a store with a red auction flag waving in the doorway. In the
window was a tempting array of cheap jewelry, watches, and holiday
goods. Surely there must be something that would be suitable for his
lady.

The room was filled with tobacco smoke and the odor of unwashed
humanity, for chilled vagrants helped to swell the throng which gathered
around the raucous-voiced auctioneer. As John entered, that worthy
lifted a glistening object in a green plush case high in the air that
all might see it.

"This lady's watch has been asked for, gentlemen. Sixteen jewels in its
movement and a solid gold-filled twenty-year case--and fit for any lady
in the land to wear. Will somebody start bidding?"

John fumbled in his pocket and took inventory of the remains of the two
dollars which had been filched from the pig bank. Presents for his
mother and father had depleted the sum by half, peanuts had cost a
nickel, and carfare, including the return trip, would account for
another dime.

"How much am I offered, gentlemen," persisted the man behind the glass
counter. "How much am I offered?"

There was no response. He passed the timepiece to a man in the front row
and requested that he examine it carefully.

"Isn't it a beauty?" He raised the watch in the air again. "Now, will
some one please bid?"

"Eighty-five cents," called John. Subdued laughter arose as the
auctioneer bowed elaborately. "I thank you. This gentleman knows a good
thing when he sees it. Eighty-five, eighty-five, a dollar and a half, a
dollar and a half, two dollars, two dollars, two dollars--"

The boy lost interest in the proceedings. What was the use of wishing
that you might give such a trinket to your lady love if you hadn't the
money to pay for it?

There were books, but Louise was not over fond of reading; ash trays,
atrocious Japanese vases with wart-like protuberances on their sides,
and cut-glass dishes--each in its turn went to some fortunate, or
unfortunate, who outbid John's modest offer.

At last the auctioneer rummaged among the conglomeration of articles on
the counter below him and brought forth a little china dish.

"I have here," he began, "a hand-pain