“Oh! where are you going?” he asked, in a great trouble, that he never dreamed of trying to hide. “To a boarding-school in Baltimore. Oh! I don’t want to go, David Lindsay! But they say I must!” cried the child, almost in tears again. The lad sighed, looked thoughtful, and then said: “Yes; I know. Even grandmother has said often: ‘Why don’t they send that little lady to school? She ought to be at school.’ So I suppose you must go, sure enough, and it is all right; but it is very har—hard!” said the boy, valiantly trying to suppress a sob, and succeeding in doing so. “Yes, it is hard; but Uncle Marcel says that he and you must console each other; and he says he will lend you books and give you advice, and help you, if you wish, to improve your mind, David Lindsay. And here, come in here, and see what I have got for you! I told uncle I was going to give them to you, and he did not object. And old Laban brought them down here for me yesterday. Come and see,” she said, as she led the way into the old boat-house and pointed to the trunk. “Oh!” exclaimed the boy. “Books?” “Yes! Drag the trunk out into the light where I can show it to you, David Lindsay.” The boy obeyed. The girl then unlocked the trunk and gleefully displayed its contents, looking up into the boy’s face with eyes dancing with the delight of delighting. Indeed, his eyes, radiant with rapture, responded fully. “Oh! oh! what heaps of books and things!” he cried. “They are all, all yours, David Lindsay!” “Oh! oh! how generous you are! And—oh! how happy you must be!” he exclaimed, fairly catching his breath in ecstasy. “Indeed I am very, very happy, David Lindsay!” she cried. And so she was at that moment, while looking on her playmate’s happiness, and forgetting that she had to leave him soon and go away from home. And then both went to work and tumbled out all the slates, pencils, and pens, all the “Peter Parleys,” and other attractive school books. Finally, at the bottom of the trunk, lay two thick volumes, which little Glo’ with some difficulty lifted out and took upon her lap, and playfully hid with her handkerchief, saying: “And now, David Lindsay, here are two precious, precious treasures, too precious to be read very often!” “What is it?” said the boy—“the Holy Bible in two volumes?” “No,” answered the girl, gravely and sweetly. “The Word of the Lord is the Book of books, and not to be talked of with others.” “Well, then, is it the Lives of the Saints?” “No,” she answered, smiling; “but you can never guess. This one in blue and gold is the ‘Arabian Nights’ Entertainment,’ and this one in crimson, with the painted picture on the cover, is ‘Fairy Tales.’ Oh! they are just splendid, David Lindsay! I love them, and so will you; but you ought not to read them until you have done all your work and lessons for the day. Mamma never let me have the story-books until I had done my lessons,” said the little girl, solemnly. Meanwhile David was looking at the new books.