She related a good deal more on this second evening concerning the virtues of her two daughters, her husband's nobility of character, and her own unworthiness. After she had taken several more doses of the medicine prescribed by one of the most eminent physicians of the city, she finally wept herself to sleep. The next morning she began the day's work by bursting into a rage because Lilly had used the broom, which was to remain undisturbed behind the door, for sweeping the library. "This broom is here for only one purpose--to beat those two monsters when they come to my door. And if you, wretched creature, take hold of it once again, you will be the first to make its acquaintance." Lilly now began to divine that the strange world was not so roseate as her eagerness for experience had led her to picture it. But worse was to come. Mrs. Asmussen, who seemed to be greatly concerned for the salvation of Lilly's soul and the purity of her virgin fancy, immediately forbade her to read any of the books in the library. "Experience with my daughters," she said, "taught me where such misconduct leads. And I will see to it that you are spared a similar fate." So long as the work of ordering the books and the ledger continued, the temptation to disobey this mandate did not arise very frequently. But when fall came, when despite increase of custom, unoccupied hours grew more frequent, and the lamp hanging over the counter shone invitingly, when Mrs. Asmussen from day to day succumbed earlier to the effects of the medicine prescribed by one of the most eminent physicians in the city, and fell into an untroubled dream existence, curiosity and loneliness drove Lilly irresistibly on to commit the sinful deed. The final impulse was given by a girl of about her own age, who had come one rainy October evening to exchange the first volume of a novel for the second. But the second had been loaned already, and the girl actually cried in disappointment. She couldn't bear waiting, she said. She _had_ to know how the story ended. She would _die_ if she didn't. Lilly good-humouredly advised her to go to one of the other circulating libraries, which were said to be larger and more aristocratic. She even returned the three marks deposit for use at the other place. Happy in reawakened hopes the novel-reader left. Lilly examined the torn and soiled volume on all sides and took a cautious peep between the covers. "_Soll und Haben_, by Gustav Freytag," was on the title page. She recalled that even the girls of the first year high school had gone into raptures over the book. But the seamstress's daughter had had no time for reading novels. Lilly glanced timidly at the first page, then slipped to the glass door and listened for a while to Mrs. Asmussen's peaceful breathing--now, with sails spread, she launched forth on the high seas of romance.