“It’s no use trying,” began Mabel; “I’m just going to give up. I never in the world could save up all that money; fifteen dollars.”
“I have five,” replied Harold; “I can lend you that much.”
“No, no!” Mabel refused utterly; “I haven’t any way of paying it back, and papa says to borrow money when you’ve no way of paying it is almost the same as stealing.”
“But you could save up and pay it some day; of course, you could.”
“No, I might never be able to; besides, it might be years and years and it wouldn’t be right to keep you out of the money all of that time when you might want it. Oh, dear, I wish I never had been so careless.”
Harold tried to cheer her by reminding her that her father had bought his book for five dollars, and why shouldn’t she come across another such bargain, and he said they must not give up the hunt for the book. “I’ll look in the papers every day,” he said with quite the air of a man, “and whenever we can we will go to a auction.”
“I thought it was a ‘nauction,’” said Mabel.
“No, it’s ‘auction.’”
Mabel looked a little doubtful and Harold hunted up a newspaper, and, after some searching, triumphantly pointed out the word to her.
“Oh, all right,” admitted Mabel; “I’ll say, auction, then. Somehow, though, this one, that we went to to-day, scared me; there were so many people there, and they made such a noise.”