Center Rush Rowland

icles purchased in Mr. Joseph Jacobs' Second-hand Emporium. First, there were the remains of a window seat. Ira had viewed it distastefully until Johnston-it had developed that his

throw something over it, old man, and no one will know. Haven't you some trifle like a Paisley shawl or a Persian rug about your person? Never mind, we'll find something. And five

g angle was more uncomfortable than the last. "Old Man Mission," observed Mart, "may have been a dandy carpenter, but he was a mighty poor comforter!" They picked up some hanging book shelves for sixty cents and two rugs only half worn out for a

t Ira couldn't see that its presence added much to the apartment. They tried it in three places and at last returned it to its original position, restoring the cast

mer's always useful-, two brass curtain rods- By Crickey, we forgot curtains! Never mind, though, we'll get those at Alston's. We can get the rods there, too. And

ext thing is to get my trunk over from the station.

two flights. Some of them expect ten cents more for that. Let's get cooled off a bit and then buy the curtains, eh? Curt

hung over big brass rods. Mart found that he might as well have spared himself the trouble of taking measurements, for the curtains were all the same length. They finally selected two pairs of what the young lady called "cross-barred muslin" and purchased rods and fixtures. Subsequently they visi

difficulty, put up the rods and pinned the curtains over them the two boys viewed the result with d

the way of a cushion for the window seat. "But Rome was not built in a day," said Mart cheerfully. "I forget how long it took, but

garding the paper distastefully. "Wish I c

u won't notice the walls at all. And if I were you I'd buy a can of brown paint and go over

ty to

then, you rickety, tumble-down, lob-sided bunch of boards, how do you go, anyhow? I say, Rowland, there's a leg missing! I didn't notice that, did you? Never mind. It won't matter if you don't sit o

f laughter. The window seat had been built for a corner! No matter how they struggled with it it remained L-shaped! If half of it ran across a window the other ha

this seat, and I guess the seat's the easier. Now look here. If we

Ira. "Don't spoil it

until tomorrow. I've got to meet Brad at five-twelve. Put your hat on and come along. Br

t it, Johnston!" gaspe

r, grinning. "I say, why not le

ng to! I-l

elf together! Here's your hat. Now co

through the throng of arriving students in search of his roommate. Ira, however, concluded that he would only be in the way. The chums would of course have lots to say to each other and he didn't believe that either of them would really be any happier for his presence. So, before the new arrivals had more than overflowed the platform

ened and shut drawers most ungently. In spite of the noise, Ira, who had slept but poorly on the train the night before, drowsed off presently and knew no more until there came a banging at his portal. Half awake, he admitted the expressman with his trunk, paid for it in a stupor and then subsided on it to gather his faculties. His blinking gaze rested on the window seat and he began to chuckle at the perfectly idiotic way in which it thrust one decrepit end into the r

rranged his possessions within. Books, of which he had brought a good many, were equally divided between bookcase and shelves. (He wondered why he had bought the shelves until he remembered that he hadn't; that Mart Johnston had b

and a cloth for the hideous walnut table; and, of course, there was that ridiculous window seat! He had to smile every time his eyes fell on it, but for some reason it seemed quite the most companionable article of furniture in sight. He

table to its erstwhile position in the middle of the rug, placed the plush easy-chair beside it and there you were! That put his desk between the windows, with the light coming over his lef

were closed, but a few windows still threw floods of yellow radiance across the brick sidewalks. Doorsteps held family groups, quite as if Summer had not gone, and children played along the pavement. An old-fashioned lantern with a gas jet sizzling inside it hung above the door of Number 200 and threw a wavering, uncertain light on the four creaking steps.

nding scene. In the doorway of his room, seated determinedly on a small trunk, with a bag on his knees, was a boy of perhaps sixteen. In front of him stood Mrs. Magoon, her hands wrapped in her apron. At t