“For my part I would rather talk about religion to a whole man than a sick man. A sick man is not a WHOLE man. He is but part of a man, as it were, for the time, and it is not so easy to tell what he can take.” “Thank you. I am obliged to you for my new position in the social scale. Of the tailor species, I suppose.” I could not help wishing he were as far up as any man that does such needful honest work. “My dear sir, I beg your pardon. I meant only a glance at the peculiar relation of the words WHOLE and HEAL.” “I do not find etymology interesting at present.” “Not seated in such a library as this?” “No; I am ill.” Satisfied that, ill as he was, he might be better if he would, I resolved to make another trial. “Do you remember how Ligarius, in Julius Caesar, discards his sickness?— “‘I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand Any exploit worthy the name of honour.’” “I want to be well because I don’t like to be ill. But what there is in this foggy, swampy world worth being well for, I’m sure I haven’t found out yet.” “If you have not, it must be because you have never tried to find out. But I’m not going to attack you when you are not able to defend yourself. We shall find a better time for that. But can’t I do something for you? Would you like me to read to you for half an hour?” “No, thank you. The girls tire me out with reading to me. I hate the very sound of their voices.” “I have got to-day’s Times in my pocket.” “I’ve heard all the news already.” “Then I think I shall only bore you if I stay.” He made me no answer. I rose. He just let me take his hand, and returned my good morning as if there was nothing good in the world, least of all this same morning. I found the ladies in the outer room. Judy was on her knees on the floor occupied with a long row of books. How the books had got there I wondered; but soon learned the secret which I had in vain asked of the butler on my first visit—namely, how Mr Stoddart reached the volumes arranged immediately under the ceiling, in shelves, as my reader may remember, that looked like beams radiating from the centre. For Judy rose from the floor, and proceeded to put in motion a mechanical arrangement concealed in one of the divisions of the book-shelves along the wall; and I now saw that there were strong cords reaching from the ceiling, and attached to the shelf or rather long box sideways open which contained the books. “Do take care, Judy,” said Ethelwyn. “You know it is very venturous of you to let that shelf down, when uncle is as jealous of his books as a hen of her chickens. I oughtn’t to have let you touch the cords.” “You couldn’t help it, auntie, dear; for I had the shelf half-way down before you saw me,” returned Judy, proceeding to raise the books to their usual position under the ceiling.