red them earnestly. "I bought it from him
myself last June."

"Bought it from whom?" asked Steve derisively.

"From Spencer Morris, of course. Paid a lot for it, too. Have a look at
it. It's just as good as it ever was. The leather's a little bit worn at
the edges, but you can fix that all right. It wouldn't cost more than
half a dollar, I suppose, to put a new piece on there."

"Look here," said Steve disgustedly, "you're a fakir! What do you
suppose we want with a relic like that? You said you had a Morris chair
and now you pull this thing out to show us. Is that all you've got?"

"Oh, no, I've got a lot of good things in there," answered Durkin
cheerfully, peering into the gloomy recesses of the storeroom. "How
about some pictures, or a pair of fine vases, or----"

"Have you another arm-chair?" asked Steve impatiently.

"No, this is the only one. I've got some dandy cushions, though, for a
window-seat. Let me show you those." And Durkin was back again before
Steve could stop him. Tom was grinning when Steve turned an indignant
look upon him.

"Morris chair!" growled Steve. "Silly chump!"

"Here you are!" Durkin came proudly forth, heralded by a cloud of
pungent dust, and tossed three cushions into the chair. "Look at those
for bargains, will you? Fifty cents apiece and dirt cheap."

"We don't want cushions," growled Steve disgustedly. But Tom was
examining them and presently he looked across at his chum. "We might buy
these, Steve. They're not so bad."

Steve grudgingly looked them over. Finally, "We'll give you twenty-five
cents apiece for them," he said.

"Twenty-five! Why, they're worth a dollar!"

"All right, you keep them."

Durkin hesitated and sighed. Finally, as the boys showed a strong
inclination to seek the stairway, "Give me a dollar for the lot," he
said. Steve questioned Tom with his eyes and Tom nodded.

"All right," said Tom, "but it's more than they're worth."

"You'd have to pay a dollar and a half if you bought them new," said
Durkin. "Honest! Now, about that chair----"

"Nothing doing!" interrupted Steve decisively.

"It's a good chair, and comfortable--say, sit down and just try it, will
you?" Durkin removed the cushions and Steve, with a shrug, seated
himself. When he got out Tom took his place. It _was_ comfortable.

"How much?" asked Steve carelessly.

"Three-fifty, and dirt----"

"Give you a dollar and a half."

Durkin looked so pained that Tom quite pitied him. But