“I might,” answered the wife.
“Let me see the books,” said the young book agent.
He spent a few minutes in looking the volumes over. They were not of great value, to his manner of thinking, yet he thought they might bring him six dollars or more.
“If you wish it, I’ll give you the two new books for those old ones,” he said. “I am not particular about it, but I’d like to do a little to-day before stopping work.”
“Don’t you think the books are worth more?” asked the young wife.
“Honestly, I do not.”
“Then take them and give us the new books.”
“It’s hard luck, Millie,” said the young husband. “You didn’t get much out of your Uncle Alexander after all.”
“No, Samuel,” and the young wife heaved a deep sigh.
“You see, it was this way,” explained Samuel Windham. “My wife nursed her uncle for over two years. He promised to leave her a thousand dollars or more when he died. But when he did die he didn’t leave anything but some old furniture and these books and just enough to pay for his funeral.”