her voice.
'You believe a man that will go saying things like this about my
sister? Why is he trying to do us harm? Why, there _is_ no books to put
on the shelves! No books have come to the library yet!'

She laughed scornfully, and, before he could speak, continued with the
same vehemence.

'What have we done to Mr. Bower? I suppose it's because we're not so
friendly with them as we were. So he does his best to take away our
good name, and to ruin Thyrza's life! Of course, I knew very well what
you mean. I know what _he_ means. He's a cruel coward! It's a lie that
he's seen Thyrza coming out of the library! Why, I tell you there is no
books there! How could she help to put them on the shelves? You shall
come with me this minute to the Bowers' house! You can't refuse to do
that, Mr. Ackroyd: it's only fair, it's only justice. You shall come
and repeat to them all you've told me, and then see if he'll _dare_ to
say it again. I'm glad you didn't tell Gilbert; you was right to tell
me first. I'm not angry with you; you mustn't think that; though you
speak as if you believed his lies. I should have thought you knew
Thyrza better. Come with me, this minute! You _shall_ come, if you're
an honest man, as you say you are!'

She laid her hand upon his arm. Ackroyd took the hand and held it
whilst he compelled her to listen to him.

'Lydia, we can't go till you've heard everything. I've got more to tell
you.'

'More? What is it? A man that 'll say so much 'll say anything. You've
told me quite enough, I should think, considering it's about my own
sister.'

'But, Lydia, do listen to me, my poor girl! Try and quiet yourself, and
listen to me. There's nothing more of Bower's telling; he didn't say
any more; and there was more harm in his way of telling it than in the
story itself. But I have something to tell you that I've found out
myself.'

She looked him in the face. Her hand she had drawn away.

'And _you_ are going to say harm of Thyrza!' she said under her breath,
eyeing him as though he were her deadliest enemy.

'Think and say of me what you like, Lydia. I've got something that I
must tell you; if I don't, I'd a deal better never have said anything
at all. You're not right about the library. There _are_ books there,
and Mr. Egremont has been busy with them of a morning.'

'But how can _you_ know better than Gilbert?' she cried.

'I know, because I went last night to find out. As soon as I'd heard
Bower's tale