FullReads

“The little girl said she didn’t know whether her mother would like it or not, but what she had been sent for was change for a quarter.

“‘This will be the same thing,’ said Abner; ‘twenty cents in money, and five cents for a duodecimo for one week. So take the money and the book, my dear, and tell your mother that if she keeps it out longer than one week there’ll be a fine.’

“The child and the duodecimo departed, and Abner sat down again, and wiped his brow. ‘There’s one customer,’ said he, ‘and that’s the way to do business. They come to get you to do somethin’ for them, and before they know it they’re doin’ business with you, payin’ cash in advance. But there’s one thing I forgot. I oughter asked them young ones what their mother’s name was. But I’ll remember ’em, specially the one with the plaited hair, so it’s all the same.’

“The little girls went home. ‘It’s a new man at the library,’ said the one with the plaits, ‘and he hadn’t got no more’n twenty cents in money; but he sent you a book for the other five cents.’

“The mother, with her baby in her lap, sent the ten cents to the woman who was waiting, and then took the book, which opened quite naturally at the article on the Inquisition, and began to read. And, although the baby grew restless and began to cry, she didn’t stop reading until she had finished that article. ‘It’s fully worth five cents,’ she said to herself, as she put it on the shelf for future perusal.

“It was not long before the thought struck Abner that he was losing opportunities which spread themselves around him, so he jumped up and took down a book. The volume proved to be one of ‘Elegant Extracts’; but after reading certain reflections ‘Upon Seeing Mr. Pope’s House at Binfield’ he thought he would like something more in the nature of a story, and took up a thinner volume entitled ‘Dick’s Future State.’ He turned over the leaves, hoping to meet with some of the adventures of Dick; but his attention was arrested by a passage which asserted that arithmetic would be one of the occupations to be followed in heaven. He was about to put away the book in disgust–for to him there was no need of a man’s being good in this world if he were to be condemned to arithmetic in the next–when the light from the open door was darkened by a large body who approached in carpet slippers, making no noise. This proved to be a round and doleful negro woman, a greater part of her face wrapped up in a red-and-green handkerchief. Her attire was somewhat nondescript, and entirely unsuggestive of literary inclinations. She groaned as she entered the room.

“‘Whar Mr. Bro’nsill?’ she asked, with one hand to her face.

“Abner was amazed. Was it possible that this woman could read, and that she cared for books? He explained the situation, and assured her that he could attend to her just as well as the regular librarian.

“‘I’s mighty glad to hear dat,’ said the woman, ‘I’s mighty glad to hear dat, for I hasn’t slep’ one wink for dis tooth. Mr. Bro’nsill he allus pulls my teeth, and dey nebber has been one what ached as bad as dis.’

“With this she began to unwrap her swollen face.

“‘You needn’t do that,’ cried Abner. ‘I can’t pull teeth. You must go to the dentist.’

“‘That’ll be fifty cents,’ said the woman, ‘and Mr. Bro’nsill he don’ charge nothin’. I know whar he keeps his pinchers. Dey’s in dat drawer in de table. And you kin pull it out jes as well as anudder pusson. I’d pull hit out ef I wuz anudder pusson.’

“Abner shook his head. ‘I never pulled a tooth,’ he said. ‘I don’t know nothin’ about it.’

“‘Don’ dey tell somethin’ about pullin’ teeth in dese here books?’ said the woman.