And though mandolin and marmalade were
harder, yet she conscientiously realized that she could spell those
correctly.

"I don't see anything," she said, at last, slowly and regretfully.

"Then I save my money, and you save your reputation as a speller," said
Mr. Abercrombie, jocosely, as he jingled some silver in his pocket.

"Oh, wait a minute!" cried Marjorie. "There's that handsome clock! Miss
Merington said it's malachite, and I haven't the least idea how to spell
that!"

"Fairly caught!" said the old gentleman, chuckling at his own defeat. "I
see by your honest eyes that you really don't know how to spell
malachite, and it _is_ a hard word. Now, listen, and I'll teach you."

Mr. Abercrombie spelled the word, and then said:

"Would you have guessed it was spelled like that?"

"No, sir," said Midge, truthfully; "I should have thought there was a
'k' in it."

"I almost wish there had been," said the gentleman, ruefully, "then I
should not have to buy the most expensive article on your table.
However, it will look well on my library mantel, and I shall rejoice
whenever I look at it and remember that you know how to spell it."

Marjorie smiled at this idea, and the queer customer paid to Miss
Merington the rather large price that was marked on the handsome clock.

"Marjorie, you're a trump!" said she, as Mr. Abercrombie walked away.
"He's about the only one here rich enough to buy that clock, and I'm
glad he took it. This will swell our fund finely."

When it was supper-time, the Maynards and Fultons all went together to
the restaurant in the R booth. They had a merry time, and Marjorie told
the story of her "Spelling Lesson," as she called it.

"You're a born merchant, Midge," said King. "You make money by knowing
how to spell--and then you make money by not knowing!"

"But such occasions don't happen often," said Mr. Maynard. "I think
you'd better continue your spelling lessons for a few years yet. And
now, as it's time for ice-cream, I'll try your friend's plan, Midget. If
you can spell _Biscuit Tortoni_, you can have it!"

"Thank you, Father," said Marjorie, smiling; "but I'd rather have
vanilla and chocolate. They're easier to spell, and just as good to
eat."

After supper, the children had to go home. Marjorie looked back
reluctantly at the brilliant hall, even more gay since the lights were
burning, but she remembered that she could yet come two more afternoons,
so she said no word of regret.