“Dear me! The child has more money than brains, eh?” and laughed heartily.
“I ain’t so sure about that. She certainly knows a good thing,” returned Mr. Van Styne. Then he said to Polly: “Will you carry it right along with you, if I sell it for ten?”
“Of course!” declared she, and the sale was made.
“I guess we’d better be going, Polly,” suggested Mrs. Fabian, now. This told the girl that the deal over the pictures had been consummated, but she did not ask questions then.
Mrs. Fabian went back to gather up her four precious pictures, and had the other girls help her carry them away. Then they bid the good old man good-by and started off.
“Come again, when you have more time to poke around,” said he, as he stood on the doorstep watching them walk towards the car which was waiting a short distance down the street.
“We certainly will, and if you get anything really antique in the place at any time, drop me word, or telephone to the address I left on your desk, just now,” said Mrs. Fabian.
Once the hunters were safely on the way to New York, the girls importuned Mrs. Fabian to tell them the story of the pictures, but she laughingly remarked:
“Do you know, we forgot all about our luncheon! Poor Carl must be famished!”
“Not much,” retorted Carl. “I went to that quick lunch-room across from the old junk-shop, and got the best dinner for forty cents that I ever tasted. But we will stop for a picnic, when we reach the country, if you say so.”