The fat auctioneer looked from one to the other of us. He had not had a chance to speak since the bidding was at ten dollars. He was about to open his mouth now when——
"One hundred dollars!" I said and looked over at Meagher.
Meagher turns to his chum. Before he could speak the chum was emptying his pockets to him. When he had it all counted—his chum's and his own——
"Two hundred fifty dollars," he said; "we might as well throw in the change—two hundred and sixty-five dollars," and laid it down on the table before Mary Riley.
Gold of angels, but there was class to the way he did it. No millionaire's money, but the savings of an enlisted man's pay.
I turned to Twinney. "He's through—make out your check for three hundred and give to me."
"Three hundred dollars," he says, "for that piece of lace! Three hundred—why, five dollars would be enough for it!"
"Make out your check for three hundred, Twinney, and those cups you've got and the two watches in my pocket, every medal and cup I've got at home, my championship gold football—they're yours to keep."
"But three hundred dollars!"
"Yes, and three thousand if I had your money!"