"Ah," said I, "if I had a long, long day, I should ask for nothing better than to arrange those books!" A sudden flash of inspiration came to me. "Hilda Brandon," said I, "you were born to be a librarian!" And indeed it seemed to me at the moment as though the earth could hold no fairer plot of peace than this cool place, with the green garden below, and the atmosphere inside cool green like the woods, and all those books waiting to be handled and dusted and loved. Presently the twins came up the garden steps, and said they should like to go home, by which I guessed that their fruit-eating capacity had come to an end. "I hope you won't be horribly upset to-morrow, little girls," said I; but they assured me that they could have eaten a great deal more if they really wanted to, only they feared that the boys would make themselves ill with the green apples they were eating after all the ripe fruit. However, a boy's digestion is a wonderful thing, and the interest those boys, and the twins as well, showed in their supper on the way home, fairly amazed me. Before we left, Mary O'Connor gave me a very urgent invitation to come and read all the books I liked, and Oona seconded her. "'Twill do you a world of good, Miss Hilda," she said, "an' keep you from mopin' about by yourself, so that the sight of you keeps my own heart sore." "But what would General MacNeill say?" I said hesitating, for I wanted very badly to come. "What would he say!" exclaimed Mary indignantly; "only that he was a proud man to have a clever young lady like yourself enjoyin' his ould books. But anyhow he's not due this month yet, and you can come in by the garden door without even knockin', but just come an' go as you like. There's no one will make or meddle with you, an' sure when the master comes, an' ould Lady O'Brien fetches him over to see you, you can just spake up an' ask him if you mayn't have the run of the place." "Very well, Mary," said I, "I'll come." Indeed the books seemed such a paradise to me that I did not stop overlong to examine my scruples about invading General MacNeill's domain. After all, unless he was a perfect curmudgeon, he could not object, and then his friendship with Esther's godmother seemed to make him a kind of friend of ours too. Yes, on the whole, I thought I might venture to accept Mary's invitation, and indeed the thought of it sent me to bed that night with more cheerfulness in my heart than I had known since Pierce died. CHAPTER XVII. THE MASTER OF ROSE HILL.