“I—I don’t know,” the boy said frankly. “But don’t do it. Let me take the book.”
“Oh, Neale! you wouldn’t try to pass the money?” gasped Agnes.
“Huh! think I’m a chump?” demanded the boy. “I want to study over it. Maybe I’ll show the bonds to somebody. Who knows—they may still be of some small value.”
“We—ell—of course, the money—”
“That’s phony—sure!” cried Neale, hastily. “But bonds sometimes are worth a little, even when they are as old as these.”
“No-o,” sighed Agnes, shaking her head. “No such good luck.”
“But you don’t mind if I take the book?” Neale urged.
“No. But do take care of it.”
So Neale took the old scrap-book home under his arm, neither he nor Agnes suspecting what trouble and worriment would arise from this simple act.