Hieronymus read: "Selections from Robert Browning." "Come, come!" he said cheerily, "this is a good choice!" "It is not my choice," said David simply. "I don’t know one fellow from another. But the man at the shop in Ludlow told me it was a book to have. If you say so too, of course that settles the matter." "Well," said Hieronymus, "and what about the other books?" "I tell you what," said David suddenly, "if you’d come to my lodgings one day, you could look at the books I’ve got and advise me about others. That would be the shortest and pleasantest way." "By all means," said the historian. "Then you have not yet given away your gifts?" "Not yet," said David quietly. "I am waiting awhile." And then he relapsed into silence and timidity, and went on twisting his whip. Hieronymus was interested, but he had too much delicate feeling to push the inquiry, and not having a mathematical mind he was quite unable to put two and two together without help from another source. So he just went on smoking his pipe, wondering all the time what possible reason his companion could have for collecting a library beginning with Mrs. Hemans. After a remark about the weather and the crops--Hieronymus was becoming quite agricultural--David rose in an undecided kind of manner, expressed his thanks, and took his leave, but there was evidently something more he wanted to say, and yet he went away without saying it. "I’m sure he wants to speak about the pastry," thought Hieronymus. "Confound him! Why doesn’t he?" The next moment the door opened, and David put his head in. "There’s something else I wanted to say," he stammered out. "The fact is, I don’t tell anybody about the books I buy. It’s my own affair, and I like to keep it to myself. But I’m sure I can trust you." "I should just think you could," Hieronymus answered cheerily. So he promised secrecy, and then followed the exciseman to the door, and watched him mount his horse and ride off. Mr. Benbow was coming in at the time, and Hieronymus said some few pleasant words about David Ellis. "He’s the nicest man in these parts," Mr. Benbow said warmly. "We all like him. Joan Hammond will be a lucky girl if she gets him for a husband." "Is he fond of her, then?" asked Hieronymus. "He has always been fond of her since I can remember," Mr. Benbow answered. Then Hieronymus, having received this valuable assistance, proceeded carefully to put two and two together. "Now I know for whom the exciseman intends his library!" he said to himself triumphantly. *CHAPTER VII.* *AUNTIE LLOYD PROTESTS.*