o in the kitchen;
for in the course of their labours Mollie had confided to Audrey that
certain indispensable articles were still missing.

'The best thing would be to get rid of as many of the hampers as
possible,' replied Audrey; 'they are only in the way; let us pack them
up in the yard, and then one can have room to move.'

When Biddy had finished her labours and all the dirt had been removed,
Kester hobbled in willingly to dust the books, and Audrey and Mollie
arranged them on the shelves. There were not so very many, but they were
all well and carefully chosen--Greek and Latin authors, all Carlyle's
and Emerson's works, a few books of history and philosophy, the
principal poets, and some standard works of fiction: Dickens, Thackeray,
and Sir Walter Scott--the latter bound very handsomely. Audrey felt
sure, as she placed the books on the shelves, that this little library
was collected by a great deal of self-denial and effort. The young
student had probably little money to spare. With the exception of Sir
Walter Scott and Thackeray, none of the books were handsomely bound;
that they were well read was obvious, for a volume of Browning's poems
happening to fall from her hand, Audrey could see profuse pencil-marks,
and one philosophical book had copious notes on the margin.

'They are all Cyril's books,' observed Mollie, unconsciously answering
Audrey's thought. 'Poor Cyril! it is such a trouble to him that he
cannot afford to buy more books. When he was at Oxford he used to go
without things to get them; he said he would sooner starve than be
without books. Is it not sad to be so dreadfully poor, Miss Ross? But I
suppose you don't know how it feels. Mamma bought him that lovely
edition of Thackeray--oh, and Sir Walter Scott's novels too. Don't you
like that binding? it is very expensive. Cyril was so vexed at mamma's
spending all that money on him when Kester wanted things, I am afraid he
hardly thanked her, and mamma cried about it.'

Mollie was chattering on without thinking until a bell made her start
and hurry away. She did not come back for some time, and Audrey finished
her task alone.

'I have been making mamma some coffee,' she said gravely; 'she had one
of her headaches. She has sent you a message, Miss Ross; she is so
delighted with the flowers. She wanted to get up at once and thank you,
and then she thought she had better lie still until her headache was
better; but she will be down presently.'

'