"That's a great picture he made of you and Tom," chuckled Sam Randall. "It cost Terry Guffin one ninety-eight to have it framed."
"Good for Terry," laughed Dave. "He has the only real art gallery in town."
One afternoon about a month later, as school let out, Benny Wilkins, with an enormous bundle of papers under his arm, began yelling:
"Get a copy of the high school 'Reflector'! Read B. Franklin Wilkins' great article on the baseball situation. A spicy, up-to-date account, with the opinions of the author added free of charge. Five cents—five cents the copy. Catch the definite article. Well worth a quarter. Who's the lucky buyer of the first copy? Everybody speak at once. Two cents down—the rest in instalments!"
Benny's appeal met with instant response. He was besieged, literally hurled off his feet by the onslaught.
Aleck Parks did the upsetting part.
"Excuse me, Benny," he said, helping the lad to arise; "excuse me. I've got only a cent, but I'll give you my note for the rest."
"All right," chuckled Benny. "I'll make a note of it. Say, Parksy, your manners certainly need a bit of floor polish."
Benny's stock of "Reflectors" dwindled at an astonishing rate.
Bob Somers and Dave Brandon lingered until the crowd had cleared away; then Dave, with a sigh of relief, ambled toward the big elm.