“A dollar, Jack?” and Professor Simonedes Klopper, who had retired from the position of mathematical instructor in a large college, to devote his declining years to study, looked over the rims of his big glasses at the boy before him. “A dollar? Why, what in the world do you want of a dollar, Jack?”
“I—I want to go to a show,” and Jack rather hesitated for he was doubtful over the outcome of his request.
“A show?” and the professor’s eyes opened so wide that, seen through the powerful lenses of his glasses, they reminded Jack of the orbs of a cuttlefish.
“Yes, professor. There’s going to be a show in town to-night, and I’d like to go. All the boys will be there.”
“Does it cost a dollar to go to a—er—a performance?”
“No; not exactly. The tickets are fifty cents, but I wanted a little extra to treat some of my chums with.”
“Treat? Ah, yes, I presume you mean to furnish some sort of refreshment for your youthful companions.”
“Yes, sir. Can I have the money? I haven’t drawn all my allowance this month.”
“No; you are correct there. There is still a balance of two dollars and thirteen cents in your allowance account for this month, computing the interest at six per cent. But I shall not give you the dollar.”
“Why not?”