“I don’t think I’d do that,” said Coal Oil Johnny.

“It matters so little what you think!” said Grace.

“But all alone?” objected Bassity.

“I told you it holds five,” said Miss Sinclair.

“I shall make it a point to go every trip,” said Coal Oil Johnny.

“Indeed you shan’t,” protested Grace.  “The basis of the whole idea is that no friends are allowed.  It’s to be genuine money-making without favoritism or the personal element, and I think it’s splendidly original and American.”

Coal Oil Johnny looked at her and slowly shook his head.

“Don’t do it,” he said seriously.  “Please don’t do it.”

“But I please will, thank you,” she returned; “and I’m going to make more money out of it than anybody.”

“What does your father say?” he asked,

“Offered me a hundred dollars not to!”

“Then I suppose it wouldn’t be any good offering two hundred.”

“Not in the least—­nor two thousand!”

Coal Oil Johnny sighed, and puffed away at his cigar.

“See here,” he said at last, “why wouldn’t it be a bright idea to give me lessons—­at so much a lesson—­on how to behave, and that kind of thing!”

Sattie Felton clapped her hands together excitedly.

“I take him, I take him!” she cried.  “I spoke first, girls, and it beats filing all hollow.”  In her eagerness she jumped up and ran to Coal Oil Johnny, as though to hold him tight and prevent his being snatched away from her by the others.  Poor Bassity had hoped to fall into other hands, and his face showed his disappointment.

“I hoped—­” he stammered.  “I thought perhaps—­”

“No, Sattie spoke first,” said Miss Hemingway, detecting incipient rebellion, “and, anyway, she deserves to have you, for her plan wasn’t any good and was hardly better than getting a present of the money from her father!”

“What can I charge him?” exclaimed Sattie.  “What are lessons worth, Dolly—­good long ones?”

“Five dollars each, or fifty for a course of twelve,” replied that reliable authority.  “Diploma, elegantly tinted for framing, one dollar!”

“It isn’t too much, is it?” asked Sattie anxiously of Mr. Bassity.  “I don’t want to rob you, you know, and even half would be more than I could get by filing.”

“Oh, it’s cheap,” said Coal Oil Johnny, attempting to seem cheerful.  “I never expected to become a social favorite for anything under a hundred.  Only I wish you wouldn’t try your way,” he added aside to Miss Sinclair.  “I mean it in all earnestness.  If I had a sister—­”

“You’d keep her in a red morocco case, and only show her in peeps to people of guaranteed respectability,” said Grace, continuing his sentence for him.  “That’s always the way with imaginary sisters.  But the real ones like to jump in and help the old world along!”

“Oh, but do take a chauffeur,” he pleaded.