The haggling spun itself out to a length which would prove tedious to the reader if the conversation were reported in detail. The upshot of it all was that Roger reserved two articles from the collection, and sold the balance to Mike for the sum which the latter had first offered. “Now what are you going to do with them?” asked Roger, when the dollar had been paid and the goods delivered. “I’ll tell you,” returned Mike, proudly, “but you must keep it to yourself and not bring in anything more to spoil the market. I’m going to show one of ’em downstairs when there are a lot of kids around, and then auction the thing off. After a few days I’ll bring out another and auction that off, and so on, till they’re all gone. If I don’t make fifty per cent on the trade, I’ll give you back your money.” It took Mike three weeks, we may add in dismissing the incident, to carry out his programme, but in the end he got back his dollar, together with a clear profit of seventy-one cents. Among the objects which had caught Roger’s eye at the juggler’s were so-called “shooting matches,” which came in little boxes like those which contain safety matches. In appearance they resembled cigar lighters, with a smooth brown coating running up two-thirds of an inch from the tip; in action their vigor was such as to fill the heart of a non-possessor with envy. If you held one in your hand after the first flare of ignition, you got a very pretty series of tiny explosions that gave you a pleasant little thrill, and to the ignorant onlooker an amusing little shock. If the ignorant onlooker could be beguiled to strike one himself before he saw any of its fellows at work, he furnished you pleasanter thrills by dropping his match in a panic at the first pop and jumping about delightfully as it finished its performance on the floor. In his deal with Mike, Roger reserved two boxes of these fireworks, meaning to exhibit them at the next afternoon gathering in Trask’s roof chamber, where special cronies occasionally assembled on Trask’s invitation and amused themselves with jokes and gossip. Here, if the truth is to be told, some boys smoked a little,—as a rule smoking was considered not the thing at Westcott’s,—and it would be a great joy to offer the innocent brown-tipped object to the desperate character who announced that he was going to try a pipe. On this occasion Wilmot was one of the first to arrive and the first to be tricked; afterwards he became a leader in entrapping the others. As smokers were few, non-smokers had to be drawn on; they were beguiled with invitations to light papers in the fireplace. Talbot, who appeared late and found a circle of ten eager to see him light a match, became suspicious and declined the privilege. “Light it yourself, if you want it lighted!” he said grimly. “What’s the good of doing it, anyway?” “Just for the fun,” pleaded Wilmot. “You needn’t be scared; it won’t hurt you.”