Part 12 (1/2)

”That's too much,” said the Tennessee Shad. ”One plunk's enough.”

”You're paying cash?” said Macnooder, considering.

”Sure!” said Stover.

”Well, call it one bone, then.”

Stover looked gratefully at the Tennessee Shad, who winked at him to show him he was his friend.

”Now, about a crockery set,” said Macnooder, scratching his head.

”I've got two, plain and fancy, what we call a souvenir set--but you wouldn't understand that. I'll show you the regular kind.”

”What's a souvenir set?” said d.i.n.k, mystified.

”Oh, it's a sort of school fad,” said the Tennessee Shad, as Doc disappeared. ”Every piece is different, collected from all sorts of places--swap 'em around like postage stamps, don't you know. We've got rather tired of the ordinary thing, you know.”

”Say, that's a bully idea,” said d.i.n.k, whose imagination was appealed to.

”Some of the fellows have perfect beauts,” said the Tennessee Shad, yawning; ”got at hotels, and house parties, and all that sort of thing.”

”Why, that beats hooking signs all hollow,” said d.i.n.k, growing enthusiastic.

”I didn't know you'd be interested,” said the Tennessee Shad carelessly. ”Like to see one?”

”You bet I would.”

”I say, Doc, old boy,” said the Tennessee Shad; ”bring out the souvenir set, too, will you, like a good fellow?”

”Wait till I get this out,” said Macnooder, who, after much rummaging, puffed back with a blue-and-white set which he ranged on the floor.

”How's that appeal to you?” he said with a flourish of his hand. ”Good condition, too; only the soap dish has a nick. You can have it for two-fifty.”

But d.i.n.k had no eyes for the commonplace.

”Could I see the other,” he said, ”before I decide?”

Macnooder appeared loth to exert himself to no purpose.

”You wouldn't cotton to it, bub,” he said, with a shake of his head.

”I'm not so sure about that,” said the Tennessee Shad. ”This chap's no bottle baby; he's more of a sport than you think. I'll bet you he's got a few swagger trophies, in the line of signs, himself.”

”I've got two or three might strike your fancy,” said d.i.n.k with a reckless look.

”Come on, Doc, don't be so infernally lazy. You're the deuce of a salesman. Out with the crockery.”

”What's the use?” said Doc half heartedly, moving back into the litter of the closet.

”Don't get it unless you can afford it,” said the Tennessee Shad in a friendly whisper.

When at length the souvenir set had been carefully displayed on the top of a box, cleared for the occasion, Stover beheld a green and white pitcher, rising like a pond lily from the depths of a red and white basin, while a lavender tooth mug, a blue cup and a pink soap dish gave the whole somewhat the effect of an aurora-borealis.