“Hold on!” said the book-seller, as he slipped his lead-pencil behind his ear, and stepped briskly to a little shelf of rusty-looking books.

“Here are some second-hand copies of Comstock, Parker and Steele, any of which you can have for seventy-five cents,—­have your pick for six shillings.  Comstock and Parker are in the best repair, and are finer print; but for me, give me Steele!  In buying second-hand books, always choose the banged-up fellows.  Comstock and Parker tell everything that everybody knows or guesses.  Steele biles his’n down.  But do just as you’ve a mind to:  it wont make a bit o’ difference to me one way or the other.”

Johnny took Steele, handed over his dollar, and received twenty-five cents in change.

Before the money was fairly stowed away in his wallet his eye fell upon a beautiful rubber ball, painted in various brilliant colors, which lay in the show case.  The book-seller tossed it upon the clean-swept floor, and up it bounded to the ceiling.

“The last of the lot,” said he; “filled with air; that’s why it bounces so; been selling at thirty cents; will close this out at twenty-five; every boy ought to have one; children cry for ’em; just the thing for ‘hand-ball,’—­what d’ y’ say?”

“I’ll take it,” said Johnny; and he took his book and ball and hurried home, “dead broke” financially, but happy, nevertheless.

Being open-hearted, he told his folks about his purchase, and they were inclined to find fault with him, though I do not know why.  He seemed never to tire of his book and ball, but would change from one to the other, and for some days was as happy as a king is supposed to be.

Then came his bad luck.

He was tossing his ball upon the roof of the house, and catching it as it came down; but by and by it did not come down—­it bounded into the tin eave-trough and rolled slowly along till it came to the big pipe that led to the cistern, and into this it dropped, and went whirring down, and stopped somewhere with a faint plash.

For once in his life, Johnny felt as if the world had slipped from under him.

For a few minutes he was bewildered; then came the joyful assurance that his Steele would help him out of his trouble, and if Steele couldn’t, there was the schoolmaster.

The first thing he did was to lift the cover off the cistern, though he knew well enough the ball was in the pipe, as he well remembered that it ran nearly to the bottom of the cistern and then made a sharp bend upward, “so that the water mightn’t wear the cement,” the mason told him.

He found the water quite low, but not low enough to show the mouth of the pipe.  Of course, there was no ball in sight.  He closed the cistern with a groan, and got out his new book on natural philosophy.  First he glanced at optics; but that did not help him to see his way; then at hydrostatics and hydraulics.

It was of no use; nothing seemed to hit the case.  Then he gave it up, put his book away, and went to consult the school-master.  Johnny found him among his books, and told him all about it.