And, indeed, there was not. The only point at which Mr Inglis had painfully felt his poverty, was his library. He was a lover of books, and had the desire, which is like a fire in the bones of the earnest student, to get possession of the best books of the time as they came from the press. All his economy in other things had reference to this.

Any overplus at the year's end, any unexpected addition to their means, sooner or later found its way into the booksellers' hands. But neither overplus nor unexpected addition were of frequent occurrence in the family history of the Inglises; and from among the best of the booksellers' treasures only the very best found their way to the minister's study except as transitory visitors. Still, in the course of years, a good many of these had been gathered, and he had, besides, inherited a valuable library, as far as it went, both in theology and in general literature; and once or twice, in the course of his life, it had been his happy fortune to have to thank some good rich man for a gift of books better than gold. So Miss Bethia was right in saying that there were in the country few libraries like the one on which she stood gazing with regretful admiration.

"_I_ can't make it seem right to do it," continued she gravely. "Just think of the book he thought so much of lying round on common folks'

shelves and tables? Why! he used to touch the very outsides of them as if they felt good to his hands."

"I remember. I have seen him," said David.

"And so have I," said Violet.

"If you were going to sell them all together, so as not to break it up, it would be different," said Miss Bethia.

"But I could not do that, even if I wished. Mr Grantly only wants a small number of them, a list of which he left when he was here."

"The best-looking ones on the outside, I suppose. He could tell something about them, it's likely, by looking at the names on the t.i.tle-page," said Miss Bethia, scornfully.

"But, Miss Bethia, why should you think he would not care for the books for themselves, and read them, too?" asked Violet, smiling. "Mr Grantly is a great scholar, they say."

"Oh, well, child, I dare say! There are books enough. He needn't want your pa's. But, Mrs Inglis," said Miss Bethia, impressively, "I wonder you haven't thought of keeping them for David. It won't be a great while before he'll want just such a library. They won't eat anything."

"It will be a long time, I am afraid," said David's mother. "And I am not sure that it would not be best to dispose of them,--some of them, at least,--for we are very poor, and I scarcely know whether we shall have a place to put them. They may have to be packed up in boxes, and of that I cannot bear to think."

"No. It ain't pleasant," said Miss Bethia, meditatively. "It ain't pleasant to think about." Then rising, she added, speaking rapidly and eagerly, "Sell them to _me_, Mrs Inglis. I'll take good care of them, and keep them together."

Mrs Inglis looked at her in astonishment. The children laughed, and David said:

"Do you want them to read, Miss Bethia? Or is it only for the outside, or the names on the first page, like Mr Grantly?"

"Never you mind. I want to keep them together; and I expect I shall read some in them. Mrs Inglis, I'll give you five hundred dollars down for that book-case, just as it stands. I know it's worth more than that, a great deal; but the chances are not in favour of your getting more here. Come, what do you say?"

If Miss Bethia had proposed to buy the church, or the grave-yard, or the village common, or all of them together, it would not have surprised her listeners more.

"Miss Bethia," said Mrs Inglis, gently, "I thank you. You are thinking of the good the money would do to my children."

"No, Mrs Inglis, I ain't--not that alone. And that wasn't my _first_ thought either. I want the books for a reason I have."

"But what could you do with them, Miss Bethia?" asked Violet.

"Do with them? I could have the book-case put up in my square room, or I could send them to the new theological school I've heard tell they're starting, if I wanted to. There's a good many things I could do with them, I guess, if it comes to that."

"But, Aunt Bethia, five hundred dollars is a large sum," said David.

"It ain't all they're worth. If your ma thinks so, she can take less,"

said Miss Bethia, prudently. "O, I've got it--if that's what you mean-- and enough more where that came from! Some, at any rate."

David looked at her, smiling and puzzled.

"I've got it--and I want the books," said Miss Bethia. "What do you say, Mrs Inglis?"

"Miss Bethia, I cannot thank you enough for your kind thoughts toward me and my children. But it would not be right to take your money, even if I could bear to part with my husband's books. It would be a gift from you to us."

"No, it wouldn't. It would cost me something to part with my money, I don't deny; but not more--not so much as it would cost you to part with your books. And we would be about even there. And I would take first-rate care of them--and be glad to."

Mrs Inglis sat thinking in silence for a minute or two.

"Miss Bethia, you are very kind. Will you let me leave the books awhile in your care? It is quite possible we may have no place in which to keep them safely. Children, if Miss Bethia is willing, shall we leave papa's precious books a little while with her?"

"I shouldn't feel willing to get the good of your books for nothing."

Mrs Inglis smiled.

"You would take care of them."

Miss Bethia hesitated, meditating deeply.

"There would be a risk. What if my house were to take fire and burn down? What should I have to show for your books, then?"

"But the risk would not be greater with you than with me, nor so great.

Still, of course, I would not wish to urge you."

"I should like to have them, first-rate, if I could have them just in the way I want to--risk or no risk."

Violet and David laughed; even Mrs Inglis smiled. That was so exactly what was generally a.s.serted with regard to Miss Bethia. She must have things in just the way she wanted them, or she would not have them at all.

"We could fix it as easy as not, all round, if you would only take my way," said she, with a little vexation.

They all sat thinking in silence for a little.

"See here! I've just thought of a plan," said she, suddenly. "Let me take the books to take care of, and you needn't take the five hundred dollars unless you want to. Let it be in Mr Slight's hands, and while I have the books you will have the interest. I don't suppose you know it, but he had that much of me when he built his new tannery, eight years ago, and he has paid me regular ten per cent, ever since. It looks like usury, don't it? But he says it's worth that to him; and I'm sure, if it is, he's welcome to it. Now, if you'll take that while I have the books, I'll call it even--risk or no risk; and you can give it up and have the books when you want them. I call that fair. Don't you?"

Did ever so extraordinary a proposal come from so unexpected a quarter?

The mother and children looked at one another in astonishment.

"Miss Bethia," said Mrs Inglis, gravely, "that is a large sum of money."

"Well--that's according as folks look at it. But don't let us worry any more about it. There is no better way to fix it that I know of than that."

Mrs Inglis did not know how to answer her.

"Mrs Inglis," said Miss Bethia, solemnly, "I never thought you was a difficult woman to get along with before."

"But, Miss Bethia," said Violet, "mamma knows that you wish to do this for our sakes and not at all for your own."

"No she doesn't, neither! And what about it, any way? It's my own, every cent."

"Miss Bethia," said David, "are you very rich?"

Miss Bethia gave a laugh, which sounded like a sob.

"Yes; I'm rich, if it comes to that! I've got more than ever I'll spend, and n.o.body has got any claim on me--no blood relation except cousin Ira Barnes's folks--and they're all better off than I be, or they think so. Bless you! I can let your ma have it as well as not, even if I wasn't going to have the books, which I am, I hope."