These were only a few of the questions that were put to the Big Californian, as a crowd of boys filed into the gymnasium the next day after the auction notice had been posted.
“Oh, it’s straight all right,” answered Frank. “The davenport, which is as new as heart could wish, will be sold to the highest bidder. We—er—that is I—bought it by mistake. We didn’t need it. Our old sofa has been fixed up.”
“Oh, but I say Frank,” expostulated Tom, when he got a chance to speak to his chum privately. “You could send this back to the store, and get nearly all you paid for it. You won’t get half what it’s worth, at auction.”
“I don’t give a hang. I’m going to sell it this way. It will be fun. Besides, whatever is realized is going into the athletic fund, anyhow. That’ll make bidding higher.”
“Maybe it will. But say, you must have struck it rich to blow in all that cash.”
“Oh, not so much. I got the davenport at a bargain, anyhow, and I thought it would be just the thing for our room. But I can see, now, that it isn’t. Say, there’s a good crowd coming, all right.”
“There sure is. Have you got it here.”
“Yes, I saw Prexy, and explained how it was. He said I could auction it off. Proc. Zane put up a stiff kick, though, but Moses overruled him, and it’s going on. I guess the janitor has the old shebang on hand.”
“Yes, there it is,” answered Tom, as he and his friend entered the gymnasium, and caught sight of the new davenport, supported on two leathered-covered “horses.”
The crowd, laughing, talking, chaffing each other and the inseparables, filed into the big room, until it scarce could hold any more. Frank took his place in front of the piece of furniture, and soon the bidding was under way.