baronial fashion, which it was well for his morals and digestion was not
a daily festival. Jeffreys, having seen him comfortably curled up on a
mat, returned to the library. His host was pacing up and down the
floor, evidently a little nervous, and Jeffreys instinctively felt that
the ordeal was upon him. Mr Rimbolt, however, began by a little
fencing.

"I recollect taking a very pleasant tour through this district with two
college friends when I was at Oxford. See, here is the map I had with
me at the time, and the route marked. We were rather a rackety party,
and boasted that we would go in a straight line from Ambleside to the
sea, and stick at nothing. Here's the line, you see. That straight
line took us over one or two places I wouldn't care to try now. But
Oxford men, they said in those days, had no necks to break. Are you a
University man?"

Jeffreys glanced up, half doubtful whether the question was asked in
seriousness or ironically.

"No, sir, unfortunately not."

"Well," said Mr Rimbolt, "it has its advantages and disadvantages. You
would, I dare say, value it; but for the serious work of life it may
sometimes be unsettling. Is it fair to ask what your profession is, Mr
Jeffreys?"

"None at all just now. I was till lately usher in a private school,"
replied Jeffreys, wincing.

Mr Rimbolt observed the wince, and delicately steered away from the
topic. "Ah, that must be a monotonous calling, and you, with your love
of books and literary tastes, would find it specially irksome. You must
forgive me if I take an interest in your affairs, Mr Jeffreys. May I
ask if you have any engagement in prospect?"

"None at all," said Jeffreys.

"My reason for asking is a selfish one, quite, and has been suggested by
the interest you take in my library. I have been inquiring for a month
or two for some one who will assist me as a private librarian. The fact
is, Mr Jeffreys," continued Mr Rimbolt, noticing the look of surprised
pleasure in his listener's face, "with my time so much occupied in
parliamentary and other duties, I find it quite impossible to attend to
the care of my books as I should wish. I made up my mind most
reluctantly some time ago that I should have to entrust the duty to some
one else, for it was always my pride that I knew where every book I had
was to be found. But my collection has grown beyond my control and
wants a regular custodian. Look here," said he, opening a folding d