"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!"