“I—I don’t know. Do you think I oughtn’t to, Chub?”

“Suit yourself,” answered Chub, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I was just wondering whether you could afford to read it.”

“Afford to?” asked Harry. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a ten-cent book, isn’t it?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Do you think I ought to pay for it?”

“Why not? You’re getting the use of it, aren’t you? It’s just the same as though you took it away with you.”

“Why, no, because I’ll put it back in the window and Mrs. Peel can sell it again.”

“Yes, but if you took it you’d throw it away after you were through with it. It isn’t any good to you after you’ve read it, you see. How much have you read so far?”

“Pretty nearly a third.”

“Well, we will call it three cents’ worth if you stop now.”

“But—but I haven’t any money with me, Chub!”

“That’s all right. I’ll lend it to you.”