"Tell me all about it, son. Was it mischief?"
"I'm afraid it was. But we took all the things in the room to play auction with, and somehow I took that down from the wall without thinking. And, of course, I didn't know it was going to get broken."
"No, King; but if you had stopped to think, you would have known that it might get broken?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then it would have been wiser and kinder to leave it upon the wall, out of harm's way?"
"Yes, Father; much better. I didn't think. Oh,—I know that's no excuse, but that's,—well, it's the reason."
"And a very poor reason, my boy. The worthwhile man is the man who thinks in time. Thinking afterward doesn't mend broken things,—or take out inkstains. Of course, the broken glass is a mere trifle, that could have been easily replaced. But the engraving itself is ruined by the ink."
"Couldn't it be restored?" asked King, hopefully. He was not quite certain what "restored" meant, but he knew his father had had it done to some pictures.
Mr. Maynard smiled. "No, King, a paper engraving cannot be restored. What is that number pasted on it for?"
"We numbered all the things, so as to make it like a real auction," said
Marjorie.