“Yes, sir, I—I forgot that one was blue. There were five of them brown and one blue. Isn’t—isn’t it any good?”
“Any good!” exclaimed Mr. Chase. “Any good? It—it’s——”
Over went his chair and he had seized the catalogue from the shelf. “Any good!” he muttered as he turned the pages quickly. “Any good! Any——” His voice died out and Willard, wondering, watched his lips move as he read silently. Then the teacher studied the envelope again. “‘Ditto,’ he murmured, ‘on blue.’” Then he closed the catalogue slowly and decisively and laid it on the table. Willard watched him fascinatedly. He had never seen Mr. Chase look so excited, so wild-eyed as this! Was it possible that the Assistant Principal had suddenly lost his mind?
“Will,” said Mr. Chase slowly and solemnly, “I—I can’t be sure—I’m afraid to be sure—but if this stamp is genuine it’s worth——” He stopped and shook his head. When he continued it was to himself rather than to Willard. “There may be a mistake. Perhaps the catalogue’s wrong. We’ll wait and see.”
“Do you mean,” asked Willard eagerly, “that the blue one is worth more than the others?”
Mr. Chase laid the envelope on the table and was silent a moment. When he answered he was quite himself again.
“It looks so, Will. Yes, I think I may safely say that the blue stamp is worth quite a little money. You see, there are two or three dozen of the buff ones known of, but so far only one or two blues have ever shown up. But I may be mistaken; don’t get your hopes up until we’ve had it examined, my boy.”
“How much is it worth if—if it is—what you think?” asked Willard.
Mr. Chase shook his head. “Let’s not talk about that now. I—there’s the possibility that I may be mistaken. Will you let me have these for a week or so? I’d like to send them to the city and get expert advice.”
“Of course. You do anything you like with them, sir. Only if you care for it I’d like you to have one of them, Mr. Chase.”