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“Abner shook his head. ‘There may be,’ he said, ‘but I don’t know where to find it.’

“‘And you’s de librarian,’ said she, in a tone of supreme contempt, ‘and don’ know how to fin’ what’s in de books!’ And with this she re-wrapped her face and wabbled away.

“‘I hope the next one will want a book,’ said Abner to himself, ‘and won’t want nothin’ else. If I’m to be librarian I want to fork out books.’

“The morning passed, and no one else appeared. The forenoon was not the time when people generally came for books in that town.

“After he had eaten the dinner he had brought, Abner sat down to meditate a little. He was not sure that the life of a librarian would suit him. It was almost as lonesome as hoeing corn.

“Some time after these reflections–it might have been a minute, it might have been an hour–he was awakened by a man’s voice, and suddenly started upright in his chair.

“‘Hello!’ said the voice. ‘You keepin’ library for old Brownsill?’

“‘That’s what I’m doin’,’ said Abner; ‘he’s away for his holiday.’

“The new-comer, Joe Pearson, was an odd creature. I remember him well. He had been assistant to the town clerk, but was now out of a position. He was a stout man with little eyes, and wore a shiny black coat, and no collar.

“‘I am glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘Mr. Brownsill’s a little too sharp for my fancy; I’d rather do business with you. Have you got any books on eggs?’

“‘I don’t know,’ said Abner, ‘but I can look. What kind of eggs?’

“‘I don’t suppose there’s a different book for every kind of egg,’ said Joe; ‘I guess they’re lumped.’

“‘All right,’ said Abner; ‘step up to the shelves, and we’ll take a look. Now here’s one that I’ve just been glancin’ over myself. It seems to have a lot of different things in it: it’s called “Elegant Extracts.”‘

“‘”Elegant Extracts” won’t do,’ said Joe; ‘they ain’t eggs.’

“‘E, E, E,’ said Abner, looking along the line, and anxious to make a good show in the eyes of his acquaintance, who had the reputation of being a man of considerable learning. ‘”Experimental Christianity”–but that won’t do.’

“After fifteen or twenty minutes occupied in scrutiny of backs of books, Joe Pearson gave up the search. ‘I don’t believe there’s a book on eggs in the whole darned place,’ said he. ‘That’s just like Brownsill; he hasn’t got no fancy for nothin’ practical.’

“‘What do you want to know about eggs?’ said Abner.

“Mr. Pearson did not immediately answer, but after a few moments of silent consideration he walked to the door and closed it. Then he sat down, and invited Abner to sit by him. ‘Look here, Abner Batterfield,’ said he; ‘I’ve got a idee that’s goin’ to make my fortune. I want somebody to help me, and I don’t see why you couldn’t do it as well as anybody else. For one thing, you’ve got a farm.’

“As he said this Abner started back. ‘Confound the farm!’ he said. ‘I’ve given up farmin’, and I don’t want nothin’ more to do with it.’

“‘Yes, you will,’ said Pearson, ‘when I’ve told you what I’m goin’ to do. But it won’t be common farmin’: it’ll be mighty different. There’s money in this kind of farmin’, and no work, nuther, to mention.’

“Abner now became interested.

“‘It concerns eggs,’ said Pearson. ‘Abner, did you ever hear about the eggs of the great auk?’

“‘Great hawk!’ said Abner.

“‘Not hawk! Auk–a-u-k.’

“‘Never seen the bird,’ said Abner.

“‘I reckon not,’ said the other. ‘They say they disappeared some time before the war; but I don’t believe that. I’ve been readin’ a piece about ’em, Abner, and I tell you it just roused me up, and that’s the reason I’ve come here s’posin’ I might find a book that might give me some new p’ints. But I reckon I know enough to work on.’

“‘Is there anything uncommon about ’em?’ asked Abner.