You remember I told you about the library. There was everything there that money could buy and taste devise. Mr. Sutherland had taken this room for himself and Tom, soon after the boy had commenced to spend his time there, and they two were the only ones who occupied it. Not one bit of the prettiness was lost upon Tom. The little education he had received had fitted him, as education fits everybody, to admire and appreciate all that is worthy of praise. Tom liked the velvet library chairs better than the wooden ones at home; he preferred the hanging scarlet curtains to none at all; and he even chose rather to see the time by the French clock on the walnut bracket than by Aunt Margaret’s ancient time-piece. He never showed this outside. He only thought it to himself, and he never felt out of place in the library. Nobody who knew him well thought so either. He seemed a part of the library to Mr. Sutherland, and in no way a contrast to any of the surroundings. The house-servants had learned to have a wonderful respect for him. Occasionally he had been obliged to ask of them some little service, and with considerable timidity he had done so, but he was always served with the utmost willingness and pleasure. The first time he ever ventured this was one wet morning in August. Mr. Sutherland always ordered a fire when there was a rain-storm, even in the close, warm days of summer, and on this particular day he was expected home about ten o’clock, and had ordered a fire to be in readiness. The order, however, was forgotten, and when Tom came in to his morning’s work it was cold and cheerless, and the heavy summer rain was beating against the windows. Tom knew there would be trouble if Mr. Sutherland came home and found it so, but, on the other hand, he thought there might be more trouble if he were to go into the kitchen and order a fire made. He thought of it several minutes, and then, coming to the conclusion that it would better to stand the fire of Aunt Dinah’s anger than Mr. Sutherland’s, he quietly betook himself across the wide hall and appeared at the kitchen door. “Laws! here’s Tom,” said Aunt Dinah, stopping her work to look at him. “What brings you here?” she added. “Aunt Dinah,” he replied, “I’m sorry to trouble you, but there is no fire in the library, and Mr. Sutherland ordered one before he went away this morning. If you will be kind enough to give me the wood, I’ll make one, for I think Mr. Sutherland will be better pleased to find a cheerful room when he comes back.” “Tom, you just turn round and go back to your writing,” said Aunt Dinah, indignantly. “I’m sorry as ever I can be that there’s no fire, but I’ll have one there in five minutes. I don’t know what these niggers means by disobeyin’ my orders. Here, you Jack!” she called out, catching sight of the youngest of her flock, “why didn’t you make the library fire? Here’s Tom got no fire to write by, and he your Sunday-school teacher, too. Ain’t you ’shamed of yourself.”