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Updated: June 7, 2025
It was Chalker, the English groom, out of breath with running. "Seein' you alone, sir, beg your pardon, sir, but there's a person " "A person! what the devil do you mean? Speak English no, damn it, I mean don't," said Islington, snappishly. "I sed a person, sir. Beg pardon no offence but not a gent, sir. In the lib'ry."
This reply afforded me food for a considerable amount of profound reflection before I went to sleep that night; the result of which was that on the following morning, as soon as I had taken my breakfast, I descended to the "lib'ry," opened the doors of one of the book-cases, and dragged down upon my curly pate the most bulky volume I could reach.
First time I'd ever been there out of office hours; but the maid says Mr. Ellins is takin' his coffee in the lib'ry and she'd see if he'd let me in. Ah, sure he did, and we gets right down to cases. "Remember how that assistant general manager stiff of yours fell down on that public lands deal when you sent him to Washington last month?" says I.
"I I wouldn't get within a mile of her again for a fortune." Couldn't have been more'n ten minutes before the three of us Waldo, Tidman, and me was all grouped in the lib'ry again, just as though nothing had happened. "My hunch was right," says I. "He wasn't a burglar. Ask Tidman." Tidman backs me up hearty. "Then who the deuce was he," demands Waldo, "and what was he "
As soon as Marjorie gives 'em my hint about goin' back to Father there's a gen'ral protest. "Oh, I can't do it!" says Edna. "He would notice at once how nervous I am," groans Mrs. Pulsifer. "But you don't want him walking out here, do you?" demands Marjorie. That settled 'em. They bunched together panicky and started back for the lib'ry.
And that ain't all," continued the skipper, looking around and speaking low. "Ye might not think it, for he's master-modest, but Sam's got larn-in' that there ain't many in aonr taown kin grapple with. Yaou oughter see his lib'ry. A full set o' the records of Congress from 1847 up to 1861; and he'd have had 'em all, only he jined the navy and couldn't keep 'em up.
Why, we had more books than we've got in the Kilo Sunday School Lib'ry. 'Specially Shakespeare books, some Shakespeare writ hisself, an' some that was writ about him. Doc was real took up with Shakespeare them days. "'Most all his spare time Doc put in readin' them Shakespeare books, and sometime he'd git a new one. One day he come home mad.
They all cling to the same subject too faithful. Eight hundred an' sixty-four volumes of the "Wage of Sin," all bound alike, don't make what I call a rightly differentiated lib'ry. When you've read one you've read all. "'Alas! I says, or somthin' like that, sympathetic an' attentive. "'Likewise, says Sam, 'they clutter up the barn. They ought to be got out to make room for more hay.
All I know is that when I shows up for dinner and comes downstairs about six-thirty there sits Martha in the lib'ry, rocking back and forth with that patient, resigned look on her face, as if she was next in line at the dentist's. "Zenobia isn't in yet," says she. "We will wait dinner awhile for her." Then chunks of silence from Martha, which ain't usual.
Anyway, they seemed to be too much excited to sit down while they talked, and the first thing I knew they'd drifted into the lib'ry, their arms twined around each other in a reg'lar schoolgirl clinch, and the conversation just bubblin' out of 'em free. Miss Marjorie was all got up classy in pink and white, and she sure does look like a wide, corn fed Venus.
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