The term bills paid in advance to the schools have left a gap in my exchequer. For the first time I have been compelled to decline a genuine bargain. Andrews, the bookseller, called me up with the announcement that he had something I could not resist. Laughing, I asked him to name it.
"It is nothing less than Boswell's 'Johnson'," he told me with particular solemnity, "first edition, with the misprint on page 135—a beautiful copy."
"Dated April 10, 1791?"
"Dated April 10, 1791," he repeated with impressive triumph. My heart sank, though it was beating loudly. For many years I have had an order for that Boswell.
"And the price?" I murmured faintly.
"For you," he said, "four hundred dollars."
Griselda would approve of me blatantly did she know the courage it required to answer Andrews.
"No, friend, I am sorry but I cannot afford it at present."
Andrews was incredulous. "Do I hear you correctly?" he queried.
"Accurately," I told him, "if you hear that I can't take it."