nd began reading, "_Incipit proemium super apparatum
decretalium_ ..." when it suddenly occurred to him that this was not
exactly doing what he had undertaken to do, and he began whisking an
ancient bandanna about the ears of the venerable volume. All this time
Miss Susan Posey was catching the little books by the small of their
backs, pulling them out, opening them, and clapping them together,
'p-'p-'p! 'p-'p-'p! and carefully caressing all their edges with a
regular professional dusting-cloth, so persuasively that they yielded up
every particle that a year had drifted upon them, and came forth
refreshed and rejuvenated. This process went on for a while, until Susan
had worked down among the octavos, and Master Gridley had worked up
among the quartos. He had got hold of Calmet's Dictionary, and was
caught by the article Solomon, so that he forgot his occupation again.
All at once it struck him that everything was very silent,--the
'p-'p-'p! of clapping the books had ceased, and the light rustle of
Susan's dress was no longer heard. He looked up and saw her standing
perfectly still, with a book in one hand and her duster in the other.
She was lost in thought, and by the shadow on her face and the
glistening of her blue eyes he knew it was her hidden sorrow that had
just come back to her. Master Gridley shut up his book, leaving Solomon
to his fate, like the worthy Benedictine he was reading, without
discussing the question whether he was saved or not.

"Susan Posey, child, what is your trouble?"

Poor Susan was in the state of unstable equilibrium which the least
touch upsets, and fell to crying. It took her some time to get down the
waves of emotion so that speech would live upon them. At last it
ventured out,--showing at intervals, like the boat rising on the billow,
sinking into the hollow, and climbing again into notice.

"O Mr. Grid--ley--I can't--I can't--tell you or--any--body--what's the
mat--mat--matter.--My heart will br--br--break."

"No, no, no, child," said Mr. Gridley, sympathetically stirred a little
himself by the sight of Susan in tears and sobbing and catching her
breath, "that mustn't be, Susan Posey. Come off the steps, Susan Posey,
and stop dusting the books,--I can finish them,--and tell me all about
your troubles. I will try to help you out of them, and I have begun to
think I know how to help young people pretty well. I have had some
experience at it."

But Susan cried and sobbed all the mor