asked the niece for the keys to the library, and she was only
too willing to let him have them. They all went in, followed by the
housekeeper, who grew faint-hearted as soon as she caught sight of all
the beautifully bound books in the room. She ran out as if beset,
returning immediately with a bowl of holy water and a sprinkler, with
which she implored the curate to sprinkle the room, so that none of
the magicians who might come out of the books would be left to bewitch
her.

She was afraid that their ghosts might survive and bother her in
revenge for having instigated their banishment from this world.

The curate was amused by the housekeeper's fear. He asked the barber
to give him the books one by one, as he was afraid that among the many
there must be some innocent ones which did not deserve the penalty of
death. But both the niece and the housekeeper made emphatic and
vociferous remonstrances against such leniency and insisted that a
bonfire be made in the courtyard for all of them. Now, the barber had
a particular leaning toward poetry, and he thought that _such_ volumes
ought to escape the stake; but he was promptly overruled by the
conclusions of the niece, who reasoned that enough harm had already
been done by books. "Your worship," she pleaded with the curate, "had
best burn them all; for if my uncle, having been cured of his craze
for chivalry, should take to reading these pastoral poems, he might
take a fancy to become a shepherd and stroll the woods and pastures,
singing and piping. What would be still worse, however, would be his
turning poet; for that, they say, is both an incurable and infectious
malady."

Against such logic, strongly supported by the housekeeper, the
arguments of the two men came to nothing; and the barber saw his
favorite form of literature thrust into the heap that was being
prepared in the yard for illumination. Only a few books were saved
from this fate, and they only through the boldness of the curate and
the barber together against the united efforts of the female members
of the party. There was one volume in particular, called "The Tears of
Angelica," which the curate fought for valiantly. "I should have shed
tears myself," he said, "had I seen that book burn."

CHAPTER VII

OF THE SECOND SALLY OF OUR WORTHY KNIGHT, DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA

While the curate was praising the merits of "The Tears of Angelica,"
there was suddenly a tremendous outcry and noise from D