om the country, and I don't know how to behave
myself among such nice folks."
"You will do very well, Bobby. Ellen would never forgive me if I let
you go any where else. So that is settled; you will go to my house.
Now, you may sit here, or walk out and see the sights."
"If you please, sir, if Mr. Timmins will let me look at some of the
books, I shouldn't wish for any thing better. I should like to look at
the Wayfarer, so that I shall know how to recommend it."
"Mr. Timmins _will_ let you," replied Mr. Bayard, as he touched the
spring of a bell on his desk.
The dapper clerk came running into the counting-room to attend the
summons of his employer.
"Mr. Timmins," continued Mr. Bayard, with a mischievous smile, "bring
Mr. Bright a copy of 'The Wayfarer.'"
Mr. Timmins was astonished to hear "Country" called "Mister,"
astonished to hear his employer call him "Mister," and Bobby was
astonished to hear himself called "Mister;" nevertheless, our hero
enjoyed the joke.
The clerk brought the book; and Bobby proceeded to give it a thorough,
critical examination. He read the preface, the table of contents, and
several chapters of the work, before Mr. Bayard was ready to go home
"How do you like it, Bobby?" asked the bookseller.
"First rate."
"You may take that copy in your hand; you will want to finish it."
"Thank you, sir; I will be careful of it."
"You may keep it. Let that be the beginning of your own private
library."
His own private library! Bobby had not got far enough to dream of such
a thing yet; but he thanked Mr. Bayard, and put the book under his arm.
After tea, Ellen proposed to her father that they should all go to the
Museum. Mr. Bayard acceded, and our hero was duly amazed at the
drolleries perpetrated there. He had a good time; but it was so late
when he went to bed, that he was a little fearful lest he should
oversleep himself in the morning.
He did not, however, and was down in the parlor before any of the rest
of the family were stirring. An early breakfast was prepared for him,
at which Mr. Bayard, who intended to see him off, joined him.
Depositing his little bundle and the copy of "The Wayfarer" in the
valise provided for him, they walked to the store. The porter wheeled
the trunk down to the railroad station, though Bobby insisted upon
doing it himself.
The bookseller saw him and his baggage safely aboard of the cars, gave
him a ticket, and then bade him an affec
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