door partly open, through which he saw a small room, with a red carpet on the floor and a little table apparently set for a meal.

Mr. Tolman looked at the knives when the old lady showed them to him, and after a good deal of consideration he selected one which he thought would be a good knife to give a boy. Then he looked over some things in the way of paper-cutters, whist-markers, and such small matters, which were in a glass case on the counter; and while he looked at them he talked to the old lady.

She was a friendly, sociable body, and very glad to have any one to talk to, and so it was not at all difficult for Mr. Tolman, by some general remarks, to draw from her a great many points about herself and her shop. She was a widow, with a son who, from her remarks, must have been forty years old. He was connected with a mercantile establishment and they had lived here for a long time. While her son was a salesman and came home every evening, this was very pleasant; but after he became a commercial traveller and was away from the city for months at a time, she did not like it at all. It was very lonely for her.

Mr. Tolman’s heart rose within him, but he did not interrupt her.

“If I could do it,” said she, “I would give up this place and go and live with my sister in the country. It would be better for both of us, and Henry could come there just as well as here when he gets back from his trips.”

“Why don’t you sell out?” asked Mr. Tolman a little fearfully, for he began to think that all this was too easy sailing to be entirely safe.

“That would not be easy,” said she with a smile. “It might be a long time before we could find any one who would want to take the place. We have a fair trade in the store, but it isn’t what it used to be when times were better; and the library is falling off too. Most of the books are getting pretty old, and it don’t pay to spend much money for new ones now.”

“The library!” said Mr. Tolman. “Have you a library?”

“Oh yes,” replied the old lady. “I’ve had a circulating library here for nearly fifteen years. There it is, on those two upper shelves behind you.”

Mr. Tolman turned, and beheld two long rows of books in brown paper covers, with a short step-ladder standing near the door of the inner room, by which these shelves might be reached. This pleased him greatly. He had had no idea that there was a library here.

“I declare!” said he. “It must be very pleasant to manage a circulating library—a small one like this, I mean. I shouldn’t mind going into a business of the kind myself.”

The old lady looked up, surprised. Did he wish to go into business? She had not supposed that, just from looking at him.

Mr. Tolman explained his views to her. He did not tell what he had been doing in the way of business or what Mr. Canterfield was doing for him now. He merely stated his present wishes, and acknowledged to her that it was the attractiveness of her establishment that had led him to come in.

“Then you do not want the penknife?” she said quickly.

“Oh yes, I do,” said he; “and I really believe, if we can come to terms, that I would like the two other knives, together with the rest of your stock in trade.”

The old lady laughed a little nervously. She hoped very much indeed that they could come to terms. She brought a chair from the back room, and Mr. Tolman sat down with her by the stove to talk it over.