“I started to collect stamps when I was a little kid,” confided Willard as he took the chair Mr. Chase pushed forward, “but I didn’t get very far. I don’t know what ever became of my stamps. I guess they’re in the attic, though.”
“Yes? Did you have many?” asked Mr. Chase as he washed the mucilage from his fingers at the stand.
“Only about a hundred, I guess. I had a Cape of Good Hope, though.”
“Did you?” Mr. Chase inquired. “Which one was it?”
“I don’t remember. Is there more than one!”
“Quite a few,” Mr. Chase laughed. “And they differ considerably in value. You must show me your collection sometime.”
“I guess it isn’t worth showing,” murmured Willard. “I guess all my stamps are just common ones. There was one, though, I paid a dollar for. I forget what it was. I suppose you have an awful lot?”
“About twelve hundred only, I believe, but some of them are rather good. When I stop to consider what those stamps have cost me, though, I have to shudder. Still, stamps—rare ones, I mean, aren’t a bad investment. You know the good ones increase in value right along.”
“Twelve hundred!” exclaimed Willard. “Why, I didn’t know there were so many stamps in the world!”