pen-holders, pieces of string, battered cardboard boxes, and other
rubbish.

"Look here, Mug, what have you got to sell? you'll have to fork out
something."

"I don't know," returned the other mournfully, stirring up the contents
of the desk as though he were making a Christmas pudding. "I've got
nothing, except--well, there's this book of Poe's, 'Tales of Adventure,
Mystery, and Imagination,' and my clasp-knife; and perhaps some one
would buy these fret-saw patterns or this dog-chain."

He turned out two or three more small articles and laid them on the
form.

"Are there any of these things you particularly wish to keep?" asked
Diggory; "because, if so, Vance and I'll bid for them, and then you can
buy them back from us again when you've got some more money."

"That's awfully kind of you," answered Mugford, brightening up. "I'll
tell you what I should like to keep, and that's my clasp-knife and the
book; they're such jolly stories. 'The Pit and the Pendulum' always
gives me bad dreams, and 'The Premature Burial' makes you feel certain
you'll be buried alive."

"All right; and did you bring a cake back with you?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, sell that first, and you can share our grub."