ll of books, and above it hung a portrait
of Washington. There were some plaster casts and a few engravings, and
beside the study table in the middle of the room was an arm-chair which,
judging from its worn cover, was a favorite resting-place of the
Spectacle Man.

"I have a little writing to do before Dick comes in; can't I give you a
book while I am busy? I have a number of story-books," her host asked.

Frances thanked him, but thought she'd rather look about. "You seem to
have so many interesting things," she said.

While she walked slowly around the room the optician sat down at the
table and wrote rapidly. "How does this sound," he presently asked.

"'WANTED: Occupants for a small, partially furnished flat. All
conveniences; rent reasonable. Apply 432 Walnut Street.' You don't
happen to know any one who wants a flat, I suppose?"

Frances said she did not.

"The lady who had my second story rooms was called away by her mother's
death, and now she is not coming back. With Mark away at school it is
really very important to have them rented." The Spectacle Man tapped the
end of his nose with his pen and began to hum absent-mindedly:--

"The bridge is broke and I have to mend it."

At this moment a boy with a dripping umbrella appeared at the door. He
proved to be Dick, and was at once despatched to the Wentworth with
instructions to ask for Mr. John Morrison, and let him know his daughter
was safe and only waiting till the storm was over; and on his way back
to stop at the newspaper office and leave the advertisement.

"Dear me!" said Frances, after he had gone, "we might have sent Mrs.
Gray's glasses; I am afraid she will be tired waiting for them. She
can't see to do anything without them, and she is lame too."

"Well, she is fortunate in having a friend to get them mended for her.
And now I wonder if you wouldn't like to see old Toby," said the
optician, taking down a funny looking jug in the shape of a very fat old
gentleman. "When my grandfather died he left me this jug and the song
about the bridge. Did you ever hear it before?"

Frances said she never had.

"Grandfather used to sing it to me when I was a little boy, and I find
it still a very good song. When I get into a tight place and can't see
how I am to get through, why--" here he waved his hands and nodded his
head--

"'The bridge is broke, and I have to mend it,'

"and I go to work and try. Sometimes it is for other people, sometimes