ractive. Susan
appeared after breakfast in the study, her head bound with a kerchief of
bright pattern, a little jacket she had outgrown buttoned, in spite of
opposition, close about her up to the throat, round which a white
handkerchief was loosely tied, and a pair of old gauntlets protecting her
hands, so that she suggested something between a gypsy, a jaunty
soubrette, and the fille du regiment.

Master Gridley took out a great volume from the lower shelf,--a folio in
massive oaken covers with clasps Like prison hinges, bearing the stately
colophon, white on a ground of vermilion, of Nicholas Jenson and his
associates. He opened the volume,--paused over its blue, and scarlet
initial letter,--he turned page after page, admiring its brilliant
characters, its broad, white marginal rivers, and the narrower white
creek that separated the black-typed twin-columns, he turned back to the
beginning and read the commendatory paragraph, "Nam ipsorum omnia fidgent
tum correctione dignissima, tum cura imprimendo splendida ac miranda,"
and began reading, "Incipit proemium super apparatum decretalium...."
when it suddenly occurred to him that this was not exactly doing what he
had undertaken to do, and he began whisking an ancient bandanna about the
ears of the venerable volume. All this time Miss Susan Posey was
catching the little books by the small of their backs, pulling them out,
opening them, and clapping them together, 'p-'p-'p! 'p-'p-'p! and
carefully caressing all their edges with a regular professional
dusting-cloth, so persuasively that they yielded up every particle that a
year had drifted upon them, and came forth refreshed and rejuvenated.
This process went on for a while, until Susan had worked down among the
octavos and Master Gridley had worked up among the quartos. He had got
hold of Calmet's Dictionary, and was caught by the article Solomon, so
that he forgot his occupation again. All at once it struck him that
everything was very silent,--the 'p-'p-'p! of clapping the books had
ceased, and the light rustle of Susan's dress was no longer heard. He
looked up and saw her standing perfectly still, with a book in one hand
and her duster in the other. She was lost in thought, and by the shadow
on her face and the glistening of her blue eyes he knew it was her hidden
sorrow that had just come back to her. Master Gridley shut up his book,
leaving Solomon to his fate, like the worthy Benedictine he was reading,