"Yes, of course," a.s.sented their hostess; "one should always think of interest in connection with savings."

She appeared to be gazing rather attentively at the leather-bound prospectus Miss Daggett had withdrawn from her bag.

"That looks like something interesting, Miss Daggett," she volunteered.

"This volume I'm holdin' in my hand," began that lady, professionally, "is one of the most remarkable works ever issued by the press of any country. It is the life history of one thousand men and women of world-wide fame and reputation, in letters, art, science _an'_ public life. No library nor parlor table is complete without this authoritative work of general information _an'_ reference. It is a com-plete library in itself, and--"

"What is the price of the work, Miss Daggett?" inquired Lydia Orr.

"Just hold on a minute; I'm coming to that," said Miss Daggett firmly. "As I was telling you, this work is a complete library in itself. A careful perusal of the specimen pages will convince the most skeptical. Turning to page four hundred and fifty-six, we read:--"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Just hold on a minute; I'm coming to that," said Miss Daggett firmly.]

"I'm sure I should like to buy the book, Miss Daggett."

"You ain't th' only one," said the agent. "Any person of even the most ordinary intelligence ought to own this work. Turning to page four hundred and fifty-six, we read: 'Snipeley, Samuel Bangs: lawyer ligislator _an'_ author; born eighteen hundred fifty-nine, in the town of--'"

At this moment the door was pushed noiselessly open, and a tall, spare woman of middle age stood upon the threshold bearing a tray in her hands. On the tray were set forth silver tea things, flanked by thin bread and b.u.t.ter and a generous pile of sponge cake.

"You must be tired and thirsty after your drive," said Lydia Orr hospitably. "You may set the tray here, Martha."

The maid complied.

"Of course I must have that book, Miss Daggett," their hostess went on. "You didn't mention the t.i.tle, nor the price. Won't you have a cup of tea, Mrs. Daggett?"

"That cup of tea looks real nice; but I'm afraid you've gone to a lot of trouble and put yourself out," protested Mrs. Daggett, who had not ventured to open her lips until then. What wonderful long words Lois had used; and how convincing had been her manner. Mrs. Daggett had resolved that "Lives of Famous People," in its best red leather binding, should adorn her own parlor table in the near future, if she could persuade Henry to consent.

"I think that book Lois is canva.s.sing for is just lovely," she added artfully, as she helped herself to cake. "I'm awful anxious to own one; just think, I'd never even heard of Snipeley Samuel Bangs--"

Lois Daggett crowed with laughter.

"Fer pity sake, Abby! don't you know no better than that? It's Samuel Bangs Snipeley; he was County Judge, the author of 'Platform Pearls,'

and was returned to legislature four times by his const.i.tuents, besides being--"

"Could you spare me five copies of the book, Miss Daggett?" inquired Lydia, handing her the sponge cake.

"Five copies!"

Miss Daggett swiftly controlled her agitation.

"I haven't told you the price, yet. You'd want one of them leather-bound, wouldn't you? They come high, but they wear real well, and I will say there's nothing handsomer for a parlor table."

"I want them all leather-bound," said Lydia, smiling. "I want one for myself, one for a library and the other three--"

"There's nothing neater for a Christmas or birthday present!"

shrilled Lois Daggett joyously. "And so informing."

She swallowed her tea in short, swift gulps; her faded eyes shone.

Inwardly she was striving to compute the agent's profit on five leather-bound copies of Famous People. She almost said aloud "I can have a new dress!"

"We've been thinking," Lydia Orr said composedly, "that it might be pleasant to open a library and reading room in the village. What do you think of the idea, Miss Daggett? You seem interested in books, and I thought possibly you might like to take charge of the work."

"Who, me?-- Take charge of a library?"

Lois Daggett's eyes became on the instant watchful and suspicious.

Lydia Orr had encountered that look before, on the faces of men and even of boys. Everybody was afraid of being cheated, she thought. Was this just in Brookville, and because of the misdeeds of one man, so long ago?

"Of course we shall have to talk it over some other day, when we have more time," she said gently.

"Wouldn't that be nice!" said Mrs. Daggett. "I was in a library once, over to Gren.o.ble. Even school children were coming in constant to get books. But I never thought we could have one in Brookville. Where could we have it, my dear?"

"Yes; that's the trouble," chimed in Lois. "There isn't any place fit for anything like that in our town."

Lydia glanced appealingly from one to the other of the two faces. One might have thought her irresolute--or even afraid of their verdict.

"I had thought," she said slowly, "of buying the old Bolton bank building. It has not been used for anything, Judge Fulsom says, since--"

"No; it ain't," acquiesced Mrs. Daggett soberly, "not since--"

She fell silent, thinking of the dreadful winter after the bank failure, when scarlet fever raged among the impoverished homes.

"There's been some talk, off and on, of opening a store there,"

chimed in Lois Daggett, setting down her cup with a clash; "but I guess n.o.body'd patronize it. Folks don't forget so easy."

"But it's a good substantial building," Lydia went on, her eyes resting on Mrs. Daggett's broad, rosy face, which still wore that unwonted look of pain and sadness. "It seems a pity not to change the--the a.s.sociations. The library and reading room could be on the first floor; and on the second, perhaps, a town hall, where--"

"For the land sake!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Lois Daggett; "you cer'nly have got an imagination, Miss Orr. I haven't heard that town hall idea spoken of since Andrew Bolton's time. He was always talking about town improvements; wanted a town hall and courses of lectures, and a fountain playing in a park and a fire-engine, and the land knows what. He was a great hand to talk, Andrew Bolton was. And you see how he turned out!"

"And mebbe he'd have done all those nice things for Brookville, Lois, if his speculations had turned out different," said Mrs. Daggett, charitably. "I always thought Andrew Bolton _meant_ all right. Of course he had to invest our savings; banks always do, Henry says."

"I don't know anything about _investing_, and don't want to, either--not the kind he did, anyhow," retorted Lois Daggett.

She arose as she spoke, brushing the crumbs of sponge cake from her skirt.

"I got to get that order right in," she said: "five copies--or was it six, you said?"

"I think I could use six," murmured Lydia.

"And all leather-bound! Well, now, I know you won't ever be sorry.

It's one of those works any intelligent person would be proud to own."

"I'm sure it is," said the girl gently.

She turned to Mrs. Daggett.

"Can't you stay awhile longer? I--I should like--"

"Oh, I guess Abby'd better come right along with me," put in Lois briskly ... "and that reminds me, do you want to pay something down on that order? As a general thing, where I take a big order--"