“I think you’ll make more of a fortune around home than in the city, Bobby.”
“Perhaps I will. Anyway, I’ve given up reading those trashy five- and ten-cent libraries.”
“That’s a good job done.”
“Come on over to my house,” went on the younger boy. “I guess the folks will be glad to see you. I told them all about you.”
“Where do you live?”
“In that white house over yonder.”
“All right; I’ll go,” answered our hero. “Maybe your folks will want to buy some books,” he continued.
“Perhaps. Mother is a great reader—when she gets time. But she doesn’t care for what they call sensational literature.”
“I’ve got a set of famous novels which may please her. They are not in the least sensational,” answered Frank.