heads; books filled with extravagant illustrations, books so beautiful
that Mr. Brotherton licked his chops with joy when he considered the
difference between the cost mark and the price mark. The Amen Corner was
gone--the legend that had come down from the pool room, "Better go to
bed lonesome than wake up in debt," had been carted to the alley. While
the corner formerly occupied by the old walnut bench still held a corner
seat, it was a corner seat with sharp angles, with black stain upon it,
and upholstered in rich red leather, and red leather pillows lounged
luxuriously in the corners of the seat; a black, angular table and a
red, angular shade over a green angular lamp sat where the sawdust box
had been. True--a green angular smoker's set also was upon the
table--the only masculine appurtenance in the corner; but it was clearly
a sop thrown out to offended and exiled mankind--a mere mockery of the
solid comfort of the sawdust box, filled with cigar stubs and ashes that
had made the corner a haven for weary man for nearly a score of years.
Above the black-stained seat ran a red dado and upon that in fine old
English script, where once the old sign of the Corner had been nailed,
there ran this legend:

"'The sweet serenity of Books' and Wallpaper,
Stationery and Office Supplies."

For Mr. Brotherton's commercial spirit could not permit him to withhold
the fact that he had enlarged his business by adding such household
necessities as wall paper and such business necessities as stationery
and office supplies. Thus the town referred ever after to Mr.
Brotherton's "Sweet serenity of Books and Wallpaper," and so it was
known of men in Harvey.

When Mrs. Van Dorn entered, she was surprised; for while she had heard
casually of the changes in Mr. Brotherton's establishment, she was not
prepared for the effulgence of refined and suppressed grandeur that
greeted her.

Mr. Brotherton, in a three buttoned frock coat, a rich black ascot tie
and suitable gray trousers, came forward to meet her.

"Ah, George," she exclaimed in her baby voice, "really what a lit-ry,"
that also was from her Chicago friend, "what a lit-ry atmosphere you
have given us."

Mr. Brotherton's smile pleaded guilty for him. He waved her to a seat
among the red cushions. "How elegant," she simpered, "I just think it's
perfectly swell. Just like Marshall Field's. I must bring Mrs.
Merrifield in when she comes down--Mrs. Mer