he is very fond of books, and I really think she is looking
forward to the adventure with much anticipation. I overheard her
saying to one of her friends yesterday that she was going to do some
"literary work" this winter. That's the kind of nonsense I want her to
outgrow. When I hear her say that she's got a job in a bookstore, I'll
know she's cured.

Cordially yours,
GEORGE CHAPMAN.

"Well?" said Roger, as Mrs. Mifflin made no comment. "Don't you think
it will be rather interesting to get a naive young girl's reactions
toward the problems of our tranquil existence?"

"Roger, you blessed innocent!" cried his wife. "Life will no longer be
tranquil with a girl of nineteen round the place. You may fool
yourself, but you can't fool me. A girl of nineteen doesn't REACT
toward things. She explodes. Things don't 'react' anywhere but in
Boston and in chemical laboratories. I suppose you know you're taking
a human bombshell into the arsenal?"

Roger looked dubious. "I remember something in Weir of Hermiston about
a girl being 'an explosive engine,'" he said. "But I don't see that
she can do any very great harm round here. We're both pretty well
proof against shell shock. The worst that could happen would be if she
got hold of my private copy of Fireside Conversation in the Age of
Queen Elizabeth. Remind me to lock it up somewhere, will you?"

This secret masterpiece by Mark Twain was one of the bookseller's
treasures. Not even Helen had ever been permitted to read it; and she
had shrewdly judged that it was not in her line, for though she knew
perfectly well where he kept it (together with his life insurance
policy, some Liberty Bonds, an autograph letter from Charles Spencer
Chaplin, and a snapshot of herself taken on their honeymoon) she had
never made any attempt to examine it.

"Well," said Helen; "Titania or no Titania, if the Corn Cobs want their
chocolate cake to-night, I must get busy. Take my suitcase upstairs
like a good fellow."

A gathering of booksellers is a pleasant sanhedrim to attend. The
members of this ancient craft bear mannerisms and earmarks just as
definitely recognizable as those of the cloak and suit business or any
other trade. They are likely to be a little--shall we say--worn at the
bindings, as becomes men who have forsaken worldly profit to pursue a
noble calling ill rewarded in cash. They ar