s desk, and after rummaging about in it for some
little time, returned with a miscellaneous collection of small articles
in his arms, which he proceeded to hand up one by one for the judge's
inspection.

"What's this?"

"Oh, its a book that was given me on my birthday, called 'Lofty Thoughts
for Little Thinkers.'"

"Lofty grandmother!" said Acton impatiently.

"What else have you got ?"

"Well, here's a wire puzzle, only I think a bit of it's lost, and the
clasp of a cricket belt, and old Dick Rodman's chessboard and some of
the men, and some stuff for chilblains, and--"

"Oh, dry up!" interrupted Acton; "what bosh! Who d'you expect would buy
any of that rubbish? Look here, we'll give you till after dinner, and
unless you find something sensible by then, we shall come and hunt for
ourselves."

"That's just like Mug," said Jack Vance to Diggory, as the group of boys
slowly dispersed; "he's always doing something stupid. But I suppose as
we made that alliance, we ought to try to help the beggar somehow."

They followed their unfortunate comrade to his desk, which when opened
displayed a perfect chaos of ragged books, loose sheets of paper, broken
pen-holders, pieces of string, battered cardboard boxes, and other
rubbish.

"Look here, Mug, what have you got to sell? you'll have to fork out
something."

"I don't know," returned the other mournfully, stirring up the contents
of the desk as though he were making a Christmas pudding. "I've got
nothing, except--well, there's this book of Poe's, 'Tales of Adventure,
Mystery, and Imagination,' and my clasp-knife; and perhaps some one
would buy these fret-saw patterns or this dog-chain."

He turned out two or three more small articles and laid them on the
form.

"Are there any of these things you particularly wish to keep?" asked
Diggory; "because, if so, Vance and I'll bid for them, and then you can
buy them back from us again when you've got some more money."

"That's awfully kind of you," answered Mugford, brightening up. "I'll
tell you what I should like to keep, and that's my clasp-knife and the
book; they're such jolly stories. 'The Pit and the Pendulum' always
gives me bad dreams, and 'The Premature Burial' makes you feel certain
you'll be buried alive."

"All right; and did you bring a cake back with you?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, sell that first, and you can share our grub."

The auction was held directly after dinner. The cake fetched a
shilli