It was the custom in those days that far away from the dust of the grimy shelves, in the very middle of the room, there was a table with all the latest works of fiction in their gaudy bindings, a few volumes of poetry and a few memoirs. Close to this table Miss Milton sat, wrapped, in the warmest weather, in a thick shawl and knitting endless stockings. She hated children, myself in particular. She was also a Snob of the Snobs, and thanked God on her knees every night for Lady St. Leath, Mrs. Combermere and Mrs. Sampson, by whose graces she was left in her present position. Joan was still too near childhood to be considered very seriously, and it was well known that her father did not take her very seriously either. She was always, therefore, on the rare occasions when she entered the Library, snubbed by Miss Milton. It must be confessed that to-day, in spite of her success with Mrs. Sampson, she was nervous. She was nervous partly because she hated Miss Milton's red-rimmed eyes, and never looked at them if she could help it, but, in the main, because she knew that her mother was returning the Library books too quickly, and had, moreover, insisted that she should ask for Mr. Barrie's _Sentimental Tommy_ and Mr. Seton Merriman's _The Sowers_, both of them books that had been asked for for weeks and as steadily and persistently refused. Joan knew what Miss Milton would say, "That they might be in next week, but that she couldn't be sure." Was Joan strong enough now, in her new- found glory, to fight for them? She did not know. She advanced to the table smiling. Miss Milton did not look up, but continued to knit one of her horrible stockings. "Good-morning, Miss Milton. Mother has sent back these books. They were not quite what she wanted." "I'm sorry for that." Miss Milton took the books into her chilblained protection. "It's a little difficult, I must say, to know what Mrs. Brandon prefers." "Well, there's _Sentimental Tommy_," began Joan. But Miss Milton was an old general. "Oh, that's out, I'm afraid. Now, here's a sweetly pretty book--_Roger Varibrugh's Wife_, by Adeline Sergeant. It'a only just out...." "Or there's _The Sowers,"_ said Joan, caught against her will by the red-rimmed eyes and staring at them. "Oh, that's out, I'm afraid. There are several books here--" "You promised mother," said Joan, "that she should have _Sentimental Tommy_ this week. You promised her a month ago. It's about time that mother had a book that she cares for." "Really," said Miss Milton, wide-eyed at Joan's audacity. "You seem to be charging me with some remissness, Miss Brandon. If you have any complaint, I'm sure the Library Committee will attend to it. It's to them I have to answer. When the book is in you shall have it. I can promise no more. I am only human."