"Sorry for you, kiddies," said Mr. Maynard, as they started for bed, "but if you dance, you must pay the piper. Perhaps a few more evenings will finish the job, and then we'll forget all about it."
Mr. Maynard, though not harsh, was always firm, and the children well knew they had the work to do, and must stick patiently at it till it was finished.
"Good-night, Father," said King, "and thank you for your confidence in me. I'll try to deserve it hereafter."
"Good-night, my boy. We all have to learn by experience, and when you want my help, it's yours."
The straightforward glance that passed between father and son meant much to both, and King went off to bed, feeling that, if not quite a grown man, he was at least a child no longer in his father's estimation.
After the children had gone, Mr. Maynard picked out the most delicate or valuable of the "auction" goods, and began himself to remove the pasted numbers.
"Partly to help the kiddies," he said to his wife, "and partly because I know they'd spoil these things. It's all I can do to manage them successfully myself."
Next morning at breakfast Mrs. Maynard said; "Well, Midget, now you're at home again, what about starting back to school?"
"Oh, Mother!" said Marjorie, looking disconsolate. And then, for she did not want to be naughty about it, she added: "All right; I s'pose I must go, so I will. But as to-day's Friday I can wait till Monday, can't I?"
Mrs. Maynard smiled. "Yes, I think you may till Monday, if you want to.
But are you sure you want to?"