"Come in," said Miss Tooker gravely, as the cab drew up at the house. "I want to take you up into our attic storeroom, and then ask you a plain question, Harry, and then I want you to answer that question simply and truthfully."
Marveling much, Van Buren permitted himself to be led to the topmost floor of Miss Tooker's house.
"Look in there," said she, opening the door of the storeroom. "Do you see those packages?"
"Yes," he said. "They look very much like mine, only they're fewer."
"Do you know what they contain?" she asked.
"Books?" queried Van Buren, entering the room and tapping one of the bundles.
"Yes—yours—your books—five thousand three hundred and ten copies of 'The City of Credit,' Harry," she said, with a rueful smile.
"You—" he ejaculated hoarsely.
"Yes, I bought them all. Some in Newport, some in New York, some at Lenox—oh, everywhere! Now, tell me this," she interrupted. "Do you suppose that I would condemn you for doing on a large scale what I have been doing on a smaller scale ever since last November?"
A ray of hope dawned in Van Buren's eyes.