“No you won’t, by jove!” exclaimed the city youth. “If you want the desk you’ll pay all its worth. Hey! Mrs. Harrison!”
The widow approached, wonderingly.
“I made up my mind,” said Harris, hurriedly, “that I’d give you these things here. You might like to have them in your room at Hillcrest.”
“Thank you, young man!” returned the widow, flushing. “I don’t know what makes you young folks so kind to me—”
“Hold on! there’s something else,” interrupted Harris. “Now, Professor Spink here wants to buy that desk.”
“And I’ll give ye a good price for it, Widder,” said Spink. “I want it to remember Bob by. I’ll give you—”
“He’s already offered me twenty-five dollars for it—”
“No, I ain’t!” exclaimed Spink.
“Oh, then, you don’t want it, after all,” returned Harris, coolly. “I thought you did.”
“Well! suppose I do offer you twenty-five for it, Mis’ Harrison?” exclaimed Spink, evidently greatly spurred by desire, yet curbed by his own natural penuriousness.