"Oh, stories, you know. I get a fresh book out once a week." "Saturdays, I suppose?" "No," she said. "Wednesdays." And she smiled. "Usually." "It's Wednesday to-day," said he. "Not been already?" She shook her head. "I don't think I shall go to-day. It's too cold. I don't think I shall venture out to-day." "You must be very fond of reading," said he. Then Mr. Povey appeared, rubbing his mittened hands. And Mrs. Chatterley went. "I'll run and fetch mother," said Constance. Mrs. Baines was very polite to the young man. He related his interview with the police, whose opinion was that he had been attacked by stray members of a gang from Hanbridge. The young lady assistants, with ears cocked, gathered the nature of Mr. Scales's adventure, and were thrilled to the point of questioning Mr. Povey about it after Mr. Scales had gone. His farewell was marked by much handshaking, and finally Mr. Povey ran after him into the Square to mention something about dogs. At half-past one, while Mrs. Baines was dozing after dinner, Sophia wrapped herself up, and with a book under her arm went forth into the world, through the shop. She returned in less than twenty minutes. But her mother had already awakened, and was hovering about the back of the shop. Mothers have supernatural gifts. Sophia nonchalantly passed her and hurried into the parlour where she threw down her muff and a book and knelt before the fire to warm herself. Mrs. Baines followed her. "Been to the Library?" questioned Mrs. Baines. "Yes, mother. And it's simply perishing." "I wonder at your going on a day like to-day. I thought you always went on Thursdays?" "So I do. But I'd finished my book." "What is this?" Mrs. Baines picked up the volume, which was covered with black oil-cloth. She picked it up with a hostile air. For her attitude towards the Free Library was obscurely inimical. She never read anything herself except The Sunday at Home, and Constance never read anything except The Sunday at Home. There were scriptural commentaries, Dugdale's Gazetteer, Culpepper's Herbal, and works by Bunyan and Flavius Josephus in the drawing-room bookcase; also Uncle Tom's Cabin. And Mrs. Baines, in considering the welfare of her daughters, looked askance at the whole remainder of printed literature. If the Free Library had not formed part of the Famous Wedgwood Institution, which had been opened with immense eclat by the semi-divine Gladstone; if the first book had not been ceremoniously 'taken out' of the Free Library by the Chief Bailiff in person--a grandfather of stainless renown--Mrs. Baines would probably have risked her authority in forbidding the Free Library. "You needn't be afraid," said Sophia, laughing. "It's Miss Sewell's Experience of Life." "A novel, I see," observed Mrs. Baines, dropping the book. Gold and jewels would probably not tempt a Sophia of these days to read Experience of Life; but to Sophia Baines the bland story had the piquancy of the disapproved.