Well, the Express train whizzed past half a dozen minor stations, and halted at last at the place of Theodore's destination. Circumstances favored him, and the business that brought him thither was promptly dispatched. Then a consultation with his time-table and watch showed him a full hour of unoccupied time. He cast about him for some way of occupying it agreeably. Just across the street was a pleasant building, and a pleasant sign, "General News Depot and Reading Room." Thither he went. The collection of books was unusually large and choice, Theodore selected a book of reference that he had long been desiring to see and took a seat. Several gentlemen were present, engaged in reading. Presently the quiet was interrupted by the entrance of a middle-aged gentleman, to whom the courteous librarian immediately addressed himself. "Good-afternoon, Mr. Cranmer. Can I serve you to a book?" "No, sir," responded the new-comer, promptly. "I don't patronize this institution, you know, sir." Theodore glanced up to see what sort of a personage this could be who was so indifferent to his privileges. He looked the gentleman in every sense, refined, cultivated and intellectual. At the same moment one of the other readers addressed him. "Why the mischief don't you, Cranmer? Have you read every book there is in the world, and feel no need of further information?" "Not by any manner of means; but I'm a temperance man myself." "What on earth has that to do with it?" And Theodore found himself wondering and listening intently for the answer. "A great deal in this establishment. The truth is, if we had no drunkards we'd have no books." "What's the meaning of your riddle, Cranmer?" queried an older and graver gentleman, who had been intently poring over a ponderous volume. "Don't you know how the thing is done?" said Cranmer, turning briskly around toward the new speaker. "They use the license money of this honorable and respectable old town to replenish the library!" "I don't see what that has to do with temperance," promptly retorted the young man who had begun the conversation. "Using the money for a good purpose doesn't make drunkards. To what wicked use would _you_ have the funds put?" "I would keep the potter's field in decent order, and defray the funeral expenses of murderers and paupers. That would be putting liquor money to a legitimate use, making it defray its own expenses," returned Mr. Cranmer, composedly. "Well but, Cranmer," interposed the old gentleman, "explain your position. It isn't the money belonging to the poor drunken wretches that we use for the library, it's only what we make the scamps pay for the privilege of doing business."