Mr. Tolman

by Frank Stockton

Mr. Tolman was a gentleman whose apparent age was of a varyingcharacter. At times, when deep in thought on business matters orother affairs, one might have thought him fifty-five or fifty-seven, or even sixty. Ordinarily, however, when things wererunning along in a satisfactory and commonplace way, he appearedto be about fifty years old, while upon some extraordinaryoccasions, when the world assumed an unusually attractive aspect,his age seemed to run down to forty-five or less.He was the head of a business firm. In fact, he was the onlymember of it. The firm was known as Pusey and Co. But Pusey hadlong been dead and the "Co.," of which Mr. Tolman had been amember, was dissolved. Our elderly hero, having bought out thebusiness, firm-name and all, for many years had carried it onwith success and profit. His counting-house was a small andquiet place, but a great deal of money had been made in it. Mr.Tolman was rich--very rich indeed.And yet, as he sat in his counting-room one winter evening,he looked his oldest. He had on his hat and his overcoat, hisgloves and his fur collar. Every one else in the establishmenthad gone home, and he, with the keys in his hand, was readyto lock up and leave also. He often stayed later than any oneelse, and left the keys with Mr. Canterfield, the head clerk, ashe passed his house on his way home.Mr. Tolman seemed in no hurry to go. He simply sat andthought, and increased his apparent age. The truth was, he didnot want to go home. He was tired of going home. This was notbecause his home was not a pleasant one. No single gentleman inthe city had a handsomer or more comfortable suite of rooms. Itwas not because he felt lonely, or regretted that a wife andchildren did not brighten and enliven his home. He was perfectlysatisfied to be a bachelor. The conditions suited him exactly.But, in spite of all this, he was tired of going home."I wish," said Mr. Tolman to himself, "that I could feel someinterest in going home." Then he rose and took a turn or two upand down the room. But as that did not seem to give him any moreinterest in the matter, he sat down again. "I wish it werenecessary for me to go home," said he, "but it isn't." So thenhe fell again to thinking. "What I need," he said, after awhile, "is to depend more upon myself--to feel that I amnecessary to myself. Just now I'm not. I'll stop going home--atleast, in this way. Where's the sense in envying other men, whenI can have all that they have just as well as not? And I'll haveit, too," said Mr. Tolman, as he went out and locked the doors.Once in the streets, and walking rapidly, his ideas shapedthemselves easily and readily into a plan which, by the time hereached the house of his head clerk, was quite matured. Mr.Canterfield was just going down to dinner as his employerrang the bell, so he opened the door himself. "I willdetain you but a minute or two," said Mr. Tolman, handing thekeys to Mr. Canterfield. "Shall we step into the parlor?"When his employer had gone, and Mr. Canterfield had joinedhis family at the dinner-table, his wife immediately asked himwhat Mr. Tolman wanted."Only to say that he is going away to-morrow, and that I amto attend to the business, and send his personal letters to----,"naming a city not a hundred miles away."How long is he going to stay?""He didn't say," answered Mr. Canterfield."I'll tell you what he ought to do," said the lady. "Heought to make you a partner in the firm, and then he could goaway and stay as long as he pleased.""He can do that now," returned her husband. "He has made agood many trips since I have been with him, and things have goneon very much in the same way as when he is here. He knows that.""But still you'd like to be a partner?""Oh, yes," said Mr. Canterfield."And common gratitude ought to prompt him to make you one,"said his wife.Mr. Tolman went home and wrote a will. He left all hisproperty, with the exception of a few legacies, to the richestand most powerful charitable organization in the country."People will think I am crazy," said he to himself, "and if Ishould die while I am carrying out my plan, I will leave the taskof defending my sanity to people who are able to make a goodfight for me." And before he went to bed his will wassigned and witnessed.The next day he packed a trunk and left for the neighboringcity. His apartments were to be kept in readiness for his returnat any time. If you had seen him walking over to the railroaddepot, you would have taken him for a man of forty-five.When he arrived at his destination, Mr. Tolman establishedhimself temporarily at a hotel, and spent the next three or fourdays in walking about the city looking for what he wanted. Whathe wanted was rather difficult to define, but the way in which heput the matter to himself was something like this:"I would like to find a snug little place where, I can live,and carry on some business which I can attend to myself, andwhich will bring me into contact with people of all sorts--peoplewho will interest me. It must be a small business, because Idon't want to have to work very hard, and it must be snug andcomfortable, because I want to enjoy it. I would like a shop ofsome sort, because that brings a man face to face with hisfellow-creatures."The city in which he was walking about was one of the bestplaces in the country in which to find the place of business hedesired. It was full of independent little shops. But Mr.Tolman could not readily find one which resembled his ideal. Asmall dry-goods establishment seemed to presuppose a femaleproprietor. A grocery store would give him many interestingcustomers; but he did not know much about groceries, and thebusiness did not appear to him to possess any aesthetic features.He was much pleased by a small shop belonging to ataxidermist. It was exceedingly cosey, and the business wasprobably not so great as to overwork any one. He might send thebirds and beasts which were brought to be stuffed to somepractical operator, and have him put them in proper condition forthe customers. He might-- But no. It would be veryunsatisfactory to engage in a business of which he knewabsolutely nothing. A taxidermist ought not to blush withignorance when asked some simple question about a little deadbird or a defunct fish. And so he tore himself from the windowof this fascinating place, where, he fancied, had his educationbeen differently managed, he could in time have shown the worldthe spectacle of a cheerful and unblighted Mr. Venus.The shop which at last appeared to suit him best was onewhich he had passed and looked at several times before it struckhim favorably. It was in a small brick house in a side street,but not far from one of the main business avenues of the city.The shop seemed devoted to articles of stationery and smallnotions of various kinds not easy to be classified. He hadstopped to look at three penknives fastened to a card, which waspropped up in the little show-window, supported on one side by achess-board with "History of Asia" in gilt letters on the back,and on the other by a small violin labelled "1 dollar." And ashe gazed past these articles into the interior of the shop, whichwas now lighted up, it gradually dawned upon him that it wassomething like his ideal of an attractive and interestingbusiness place. At any rate, he would go in and look at it. Hedid not care for a violin, even at the low price marked on theone in the window, but a new pocket-knife might be useful.So he walked in and asked to look at pocket-knives.The shop was in charge of a very pleasant old lady of aboutsixty, who sat sewing behind the little counter. While she wentto the window and very carefully reached over the articlesdisplayed therein to get the card of penknives, Mr. Tolman lookedabout him. The shop was quite small, but there seemed to be agood deal in it. There were shelves behind the counter, andthere were shelves on the opposite wall, and they all seemed wellfilled with something or other. In the corner near the oldlady's chair was a little coal stove with a bright fire in it,and at the back of the shop, at the top of two steps, was a glassdoor partly open, through which he saw a small room, with a redcarpet on the floor, and a little table apparently set for ameal.Mr. Tolman looked at the knives when the old lady showed themto him, and after a good deal of consideration he selected onewhich he thought would be a good knife to give to a boy. Then helooked over some things in the way of paper-cutters, whist-markers, and such small matters, which were in a glass case onthe counter. And while he looked at them he talked to the oldlady.She was a friendly, sociable body, very glad to have any oneto talk to, and so it was not at all difficult for Mr. Tolman, bysome general remarks, to draw from her a great many points aboutherself and her shop. She was a widow, with a son who, from herremarks, must have been forty years old. He was connected with amercantile establishment, and they had lived here for a longtime. While her son was a salesman, and came home everyevening, this was very pleasant. But after he became acommercial traveller, and was away from the city for months at atime, she did not like it at all. It was very lonely for her.Mr. Tolman's heart rose within him, but he did not interrupt her."If I could do it," said she, "I would give up this place,and go and live with my sister in the country. It would bebetter for both of us, and Henry could come there just as well ashere when he gets back from his trips.""Why don't you sell out?" asked Mr. Tolman, a littlefearfully, for he began to think that all this was too easysailing to be entirely safe."That would not be easy," said she, with a smile. "It mightbe a long time before we could find any one who would want totake the place. We have a fair trade in the store, but it isn'twhat it used to be when times were better. And the library isfalling off, too. Most of the books are getting pretty old, andit don't pay to spend much money for new ones now.""The library!" said Mr. Tolman. "Have you a library?""Oh, yes," replied the old lady. "I've had a circulatinglibrary here for nearly fifteen years. There it is on those twoupper shelves behind you."Mr. Tolman turned, and beheld two long rows of books inbrown-paper covers, with a short step-ladder, standing near thedoor of the inner room, by which these shelves might be reached.This pleased him greatly. He had had no idea that there was alibrary here. "I declare!" said he. "It must be very pleasant to manage acirculating library--a small one like this, I mean. I shouldn'tmind going into a business of the kind myself."The old lady looked up, surprised. Did he wish to go intobusiness? She had not supposed that, just from looking at him.Mr. Tolman explained his views to her. He did not tell whathe had been doing in the way of business, or what Mr. Canterfieldwas doing for him now. He merely stated his present wishes, andacknowledged to her that it was the attractiveness of herestablishment that had led him to come in."Then you do not want the penknife?" she said quickly."Oh, yes, I do," said he. "And I really believe, if we cancome to terms, that I would like the two other knives, togetherwith the rest of your stock in trade."The old lady laughed a little nervously. She hoped very muchindeed that they could come to terms. She brought a chair fromthe back room, and Mr. Tolman sat down with her by the stove totalk it over. Few customers came in to interrupt them, and theytalked the matter over very thoroughly. They both came to theconclusion that there would be no difficulty about terms, norabout Mr. Tolman's ability to carry on the business after a verylittle instruction from the present proprietress. When Mr.Tolman left, it was with the understanding that he was to callagain in a couple of days, when the son Henry would be at home,and matters could be definitely arranged.When the three met, the bargain was soon struck. As eachparty was so desirous of making it, few difficulties wereinterposed. The old lady, indeed, was in favor of some delay inthe transfer of the establishment, as she would like to clean anddust every shelf and corner and every article in the place. ButMr. Tolman was in a hurry to take possession; and as the sonHenry would have to start off on another trip in a short time, hewanted to see his mother moved and settled before he left. Therewas not much to move but trunks and bandboxes, and someantiquated pieces of furniture of special value to the old lady,for Mr. Tolman insisted on buying everything in the house, justas it stood. The whole thing did not cost him, he said tohimself, as much as some of his acquaintances would pay for ahorse. The methodical son Henry took an account of stock, andMr. Tolman took several lessons from the old lady, in which sheexplained to him how to find out the selling prices of thevarious articles from the marks on the little tags attached tothem. And she particularly instructed him in the management ofthe circulating library. She informed him of the character ofthe books, and, as far as possible, of the character of theregular patrons. She told him whom he might trust to take out abook without paying for the one brought in, if they didn't happento have the change with them, and she indicated with littlecrosses opposite their names those persons who should be requiredto pay cash down for what they had had, before receivingfurther benefits.It was astonishing to see what interest Mr. Tolman took inall this. He was really anxious to meet some of the people aboutwhom the old lady discoursed. He tried, too, to remember a fewof the many things she told him of her methods of buying andselling, and the general management of her shop; and he probablydid not forget more than three fourths of what she told him.Finally everything was settled to the satisfaction of the twomale parties to the bargain,--although the old lady thought of ahundred things she would yet like to do,--and one fine frostyafternoon a cart-load of furniture and baggage left the door, theold lady and her son took leave of the old place, and Mr. Tolmanwas left sitting behind the little counter, the sole manager andproprietor of a circulating library and a stationery and notionshop. He laughed when he thought of it, but he rubbed his handsand felt very well satisfied."There is nothing really crazy about it," he said to himself."If there is a thing that I think I would like, and I can affordto have it, and there's no harm in it, why not have it?"There was nobody there to say anything against this, so Mr.Tolman rubbed his hands again before the fire, and rose to walkup and down his shop, and wonder who would be his first customer.In the course of twenty minutes a little boy opened the doorand came in. Mr. Tolman hastened behind the counter to receivehis commands. The little boy wanted two sheets of note-paper andan envelope."Any particular kind!" asked Mr. Tolman.The boy didn't know of any particular variety being desired.He thought the same kind she always got would do. And he lookedvery hard at Mr. Tolman, evidently wondering at the change in theshopkeeper, but asking no questions."You are a regular customer, I suppose," said Mr. Tolman,opening several boxes of paper which he had taken down from theshelves. "I have just begun business here, and don't know whatkind of paper you have been in the habit of buying. But Isuppose this will do." And he took out a couple of sheets of thebest, with an envelope to match. These he carefully tied up in apiece of thin brown paper, and gave to the boy, who handed himthree cents. Mr. Tolman took them, smiled, and then, having madea rapid calculation, he called to the boy, who was just openingthe door, and gave him back one cent."You have paid me too much," he said.The boy took the cent, looked at Mr. Tolman, and then got outof the store as quickly as he could."Such profits as that are enormous," said Mr. Tolman, "but Isuppose the small sales balance them." This Mr. Tolmansubsequently found to be the case.One or two other customers came in in the course of theafternoon, and about dark the people who took out books began toarrive. These kept Mr. Tolman very busy. He not only had to doa good deal of entering and cancelling, but he had to answer agreat many questions about the change in proprietorship, and theprobability of his getting in some new books, with suggestions asto the quantity and character of these, mingled with a fewdissatisfied remarks in regard to the volumes already on hand.Every one seemed sorry that the old lady had gone away. ButMr. Tolman was so pleasant and anxious to please, and took suchan interest in their selection of books, that only one of thesubscribers appeared to take the change very much to heart. Thiswas a young man who was forty-three cents in arrears. Hewas a long time selecting a book, and when at last he brought itto Mr. Tolman to be entered, he told him in a low voice that hehoped there would be no objection to letting his account run onfor a little while longer. On the first of the month he wouldsettle it, and then he hoped to be able to pay cash wheneverhe brought in a book.Mr. Tolman looked for his name on the old lady's list, and,finding no cross against it, told him that it was all right, andthat the first of the month would do very well. The young manwent away perfectly satisfied with the new librarian. Thus didMr. Tolman begin to build up his popularity. As the evening grewon he found himself becoming very hungry. But he did not like toshut up the shop, for every now and then some one dropped in,sometimes to ask what time it was, and sometimes to make a littlepurchase, while there were still some library patrons coming inat intervals.However, taking courage during a short rest from customers,he put up the shutters, locked the door, and hurried off to ahotel, where he partook of a meal such as few keepers of littleshops ever think of indulging in.The next morning Mr. Tolman got his own breakfast. This wasdelightful. He had seen how cosily the old lady had spread hertable in the little back room, where there was a stove suitablefor any cooking he might wish to indulge in, and he longed forsuch a cosey meal. There were plenty of stock provisions in thehouse, which he had purchased with the rest of the goods, and hewent out and bought himself a fresh loaf of bread. Then hebroiled a piece of ham, made some good strong tea, boiled someeggs, and had a breakfast on the little round table which, thoughplain enough, he enjoyed more than any breakfast at his clubwhich he could remember. He had opened the shop, and sat facingthe glass door, hoping, almost, that there would be someinterruption to his meal. It would seem so much more proper inthat sort of business if he had to get up and go attend to acustomer.Before the evening of that day Mr. Tolman became convincedthat he would soon be obliged to employ a boy or some one toattend to the establishment during his absence. After breakfast,a woman recommended by the old lady came to make his bed andclean up generally, but when she had gone he was left alone withhis shop. He determined not to allow this responsibility toinjure his health, and so at one o'clock boldly locked the shopdoor and went out to his lunch. He hoped that no one would callduring his absence, but when he returned he found a little girlwith a pitcher standing at the door. She came to borrow half apint of milk."Milk!" exclaimed Mr. Tolman, in surprise. "Why, my child, Ihave no milk. I don't even use it in my tea."The little girl looked very much disappointed. "Is Mrs.Walker gone away for good?" said she."Yes," replied Mr. Tolman. "But I would be just as willingto lend you the milk as she would be, if I had any. Is there anyplace near here where you can buy milk?""Oh, yes," said the girl. "You can get it round in themarket-house.""How much would half a pint cost?" he asked."Three cents," replied the girl."Well, then," said Mr. Tolman, "here are three cents. You can goand buy the milk for me, and then you can borrow it. Will thatsuit?"The girl thought it would suit very well, and away she went.Even this little incident pleased Mr. Tolman. It was so verynovel. When he came back from his dinner in the evening, hefound two circulating library subscribers stamping their feet onthe door-step, and he afterwards heard that several others hadcalled and gone away. It would certainly injure the library ifhe suspended business at meal-times. He could easily have hischoice of a hundred boys if he chose to advertise for one, but heshrank from having a youngster in the place. It would interferegreatly with his cosiness and his experiences. He might possiblyfind a boy who went to school, and who would be willing to comeat noon and in the evening if he were paid enough. But it wouldhave to be a very steady and responsible boy. He would think itover before taking any steps.He thought it over for a day or two, but he did not spend hiswhole time in doing so. When he had no customers, he saunteredabout in the little parlor over the shop, with its odd oldfurniture, its quaint prints on the walls, and its absurdornaments on the mantelpiece. The other little rooms seemedalmost as funny to him, and he was sorry when the bell on theshop door called him down from their contemplation. It waspleasant to him to think that he owned all these odd things. Theownership of the varied goods in the shop also gave him anagreeable feeling which none of his other possessions had everafforded him. It was all so odd and novel.He liked much to look over the books in the library. Many ofthem were old novels, the names of which were familiar enough tohim, but which he had never read. He determined to read some ofthem as soon as he felt fixed and settled.In looking over the book in which the names and accounts ofthe subscribers were entered, he amused himself by wondering whatsort of persons they were who had out certain books. Who, forinstance, wanted to read "The Book of Cats," and who couldpossibly care for "The Mysteries of Udolpho"? But the unknownperson in regard to whom Mr. Tolman felt the greatest curiositywas the subscriber who now had in his possession a volumeentitled "Dormstock's Logarithms of the Diapason.""How on earth," exclaimed Mr. Tolman, "did such a book getinto this library? And where on earth did the person spring fromwho would want to take it out? And not only want to take it," hecontinued, as he examined the entry regarding the volume, "butcome and have it renewed one, two, three, four--nine times! Hehas had that book for eighteen weeks!"Without exactly making up his mind to do so, Mr. Tolmandeferred taking steps toward getting an assistant until P.Glascow, the person in question, should make an appearance, andit was nearly time for the book to be brought in again."If I get a boy now," thought Mr. Tolman, "Glascow will besure to come and bring the book while I am out."In almost exactly two weeks from the date of the last renewalof the book, P. Glascow came in. It was the middle of theafternoon, and Mr. Tolman was alone. This investigator ofmusical philosophy was a quiet young man of about thirty, wearinga light-brown cloak, and carrying under one arm a large book.P. Glascow was surprised when he heard of the change in theproprietorship of the library. Still, he hoped that there wouldbe no objection to his renewing the book which he had with him,and which he had taken out some time ago."Oh, no," said Mr. Tolman, "none in the world. In fact, Idon't suppose there are any other subscribers who would want it.I have had the curiosity to look to see if it had ever been takenout before, and I find it has not."The young man smiled quietly. "No," said he, "I suppose not. Itis not every one who would care to study the higher mathematicsof music, especially when treated as Dormstock treats thesubject.""He seems to go into it pretty deeply," remarked Mr. Tolman, whohad taken up the book. "At least, I should think so, judgingfrom all these calculations, and problems, and squares, andcubes.""Indeed he does," said Glascow. "And although I have had thebook some months, and have more reading time at my disposal thanmost persons, I have only reached the fifty-sixth page, and doubtif I shall not have to review some of that before I can feel thatI thoroughly understand it.""And there are three hundred and forty pages in all!" saidMr. Tolman, compassionately."Yes," replied the other. "But I am quite sure that thematter will grow easier as I proceed. I have found that out fromwhat I have already done.""You say you have a good deal of leisure?" remarked Mr.Tolman. "Is the musical business dull at present?""Oh, I'm not in the musical business," said Glascow. "I havea great love for music, and wish to thoroughly understand it.But my business is quite different. I am a night druggist, andthat is the reason I have so much leisure for reading.""A night druggist?" repeated Mr. Tolman, inquiringly."Yes, sir," said the other. "I am in a large downtown drugstore which is kept open all night, and I go on duty after theday clerks leave.""And does that give you more leisure?" asked Mr. Tolman."It seems to," answered Glascow. "I sleep until about noon,and then I have the rest of the day, until seven o'clock, tomyself. I think that people who work at night can make a moresatisfactory use of their own time than those who work in thedaytime. In the summer I can take a trip on the river, or gosomewhere out of town, every day, if I like.""Daylight is more available for many things, that is true,"said Mr. Tolman. "But is it not dreadfully lonely sitting in adrug store all night? There can't be many people to come to buymedicine at night. I thought there was generally a night-bell todrug stores, by which a clerk could be awakened if anybody wantedanything.""It's not very lonely in our store at night," saidGlascow. "In fact, it's often more lively then than in thedaytime. You see, we are right down among the newspaper offices,and there's always somebody coming in for soda-water, or cigars,or something or other. The store is a bright, warm place for thenight editors and reporters to meet together and talk and drinkhot soda, and there's always a knot of 'em around the stove aboutthe time the papers begin to go to press. And they're a livelyset, I can tell you, sir. I've heard some of the best stories Iever heard in my life told in our place after three o'clock inthe morning.""A strange life!" said Mr. Tolman. "Do you know, I neverthought that people amused themselves in that way--and nightafter night, I suppose.""Yes, sir, night after night, Sundays and all."The night druggist now took up his book."Going home to read?" asked Mr. Tolman."Well, no," said the other. "It's rather cold this afternoonto read. I think I'll take a brisk walk.""Can't you leave your book until you return!" asked Mr.Tolman. "That is, if you will come back this way. It's anawkward book to carry about.""Thank you, I will," said Glascow. "I shall come back thisway."When he had gone, Mr. Tolman took up the book, and began tolook over it more carefully than he had done before. But hisexamination did not last long."How anybody of common sense can take any interest in thisstuff is beyond my comprehension," said Mr. Tolman, as he closedthe book and put it on a little shelf behind the counter.When Glascow came back, Mr. Tolman asked him to stay andwarm himself. And then, after they had talked for a short time,Mr. Tolman began to feel hungry. He had his winter appetite, andhad lunched early. So said he to the night druggist, who hadopened his "Dormstock," "How would you like to sit here and readawhile, while I go and get my dinner? I will light the gas, andyou can be very comfortable here, if you are not in a hurry."P. Glascow was in no hurry at all, and was very glad to havesome quiet reading by a warm fire; and so Mr. Tolman left him,feeling perfectly confident that a man who had been allowed bythe old lady to renew a book nine times must be perfectlytrustworthy.When Mr. Tolman returned, the two had some furtherconversation in the corner by the little stove."It must be rather annoying," said the night druggist, "notto be able to go out to your meals without shutting up your shop.If you like," said he, rather hesitatingly, "I will stop in aboutthis time in the afternoon, and stay here while you go to dinner.I'll be glad to do this until you get an assistant. I can easilyattend to most people who come in, and others can wait."Mr. Tolman jumped at this proposition. It was exactly whathe wanted.So P. Glascow came every afternoon and read "Dormstock" whileMr. Tolman went to dinner; and before long he came at lunch-timealso. It was just as convenient as not, he said. He hadfinished his breakfast, and would like to read awhile. Mr.Tolman fancied that the night druggist's lodgings were, perhaps,not very well warmed, which idea explained the desire to walkrather than read on a cold afternoon. Glascow's name wasentered on the free list, and he always took away the "Dormstock"at night, because he might have a chance of looking into it atthe store, when custom began to grow slack in the latter part ofthe early morning.One afternoon there came into the shop a young lady, whobrought back two books which she had had for more than a month.She made no excuses for keeping the books longer than theprescribed time, but simply handed them in and paid her fine.Mr. Tolman did not like to take this money, for it was the firstof the kind he had received; but the young lady looked as if shewere well able to afford the luxury of keeping books over theirtime, and business was business. So he gravely gave her herchange. Then she said she would like to take out "Dormstock'sLogarithms of the Diapason."Mr. Tolman stared at her. She was a bright, handsome younglady, and looked as if she had very good sense. He could notunderstand it. But he told her the book was out."Out!" she said. "Why, it's always out. It seems strange tome that there should be such a demand for that book. I have beentrying to get it for ever so long.""It IS strange," said Mr. Tolman, "but it is certainly indemand. Did Mrs. Walker ever make you any promises about it?""No," said she, "but I thought my turn would come around sometime. And I particularly want the book just now."Mr. Tolman felt somewhat troubled. He knew that the nightdruggist ought not to monopolize the volume, and yet he didnot wish to disoblige one who was so useful to him, and who tooksuch an earnest interest in the book. And he could not temporizewith the young lady, and say that he thought the book would soonbe in. He knew it would not. There were three hundred and fortypages of it. So he merely remarked that he was sorry."So am I, " said the young lady, "very sorry. It so happensthat just now I have a peculiar opportunity for studying thatbook which may not occur again."There was something in Mr. Tolman's sympathetic face whichseemed to invite her confidence, and she continued."I am a teacher," she said, "and on account of certaincircumstances I have a holiday for a month, which I intended togive up almost entirely to the study of music, and I particularlywanted "Dormstock." Do you think there is any chance of itsearly return, and will you reserve it for me?""Reserve it!" said Mr. Tolman. "Most certainly I will." Andthen he reflected a second or two. "If you will come here theday after to-morrow, I will be able to tell you somethingdefinite."She said she would come.Mr. Tolman was out a long time at lunch-time the next day.He went to all the leading book-stores to see if he could buy acopy of Dormstock's great work. But he was unsuccessful. Thebooksellers told him that there was no probability that he couldget a copy in the country, unless, indeed, he found it in thestock of some second-hand dealer, and that even if he sent toEngland for it, where it was published, it was not likely hecould get it, for it had been long out of print. There wasno demand at all for it. The next day he went to several second-hand stores, but no "Dormstock" could he find.When he came back he spoke to Glascow on the subject. He wassorry to do so, but thought that simple justice compelled him tomention the matter. The night druggist was thrown into aperturbed state of mind by the information that some one wantedhis beloved book."A woman!" he exclaimed. "Why, she would not understand twopages out of the whole of it. It is too bad. I didn't supposeany one would want this book.""Do not disturb yourself too much," said Mr. Tolman. "I amnot sure that you ought to give it up.""I am very glad to hear you say so," said Glascow. "I haveno doubt it is only a passing fancy with her. I dare say shewould really rather have a good new novel." And then, havingheard that the lady was expected that afternoon, he went out towalk, with the "Dormstock" under his arm.When the young lady arrived, an hour or so later, she was notat all satisfied to take out a new novel, and was very sorryindeed not to find the "Logarithms of the Diapason" waiting forher. Mr. Tolman told her that he had tried to buy another copyof the work, and for this she expressed herself gratefully. Healso found himself compelled to say that the book was in thepossession of a gentleman who had had it for some time--all thetime it had been out, in fact--and had not yet finished it.At this the young lady seemed somewhat nettled."Is it not against the rules for any person to keep one bookout so long?" she asked."No," said Mr. Tolman. "I have looked into that. Our rulesare very simple, and merely say that a book may be renewed by thepayment of a certain sum.""Then I am never to have it?" remarked the young lady."Oh, I wouldn't despair about it," said Mr. Tolman. "He hasnot had time to reflect upon the matter. He is a reasonableyoung man, and I believe that he will be willing to give up hisstudy of the book for a time and let you take it.""No," said she, "I don't wish that. If he is studying, asyou say he is, day and night, I do not wish to interrupt him. Ishould want the book at least a month, and that, I suppose, wouldupset his course of study entirely. But I do not think any oneshould begin in a circulating library to study a book that willtake him a year to finish; for, from what you say, it will takethis gentleman at least that time to finish Dormstock's book."So she went her way.When P. Glascow heard all this in the evening, he was verygrave. He had evidently been reflecting."It is not fair," said he. "I ought not to keep the book solong. I now give it up for a while. You may let her have itwhen she comes." And he put the "Dormstock" on the counter, andwent and sat down by the stove.Mr. Tolman was grieved. He knew the night druggist had doneright, but still he was sorry for him. "What will you do?" heasked. "Will you stop your studies?""Oh, no," said Glascow, gazing solemnly into the stove."I will take up some other books on the diapason which I have,and so will keep my ideas fresh on the subject until this lady isdone with the book. I do not really believe she will study itvery long." Then he added: "If it is all the same to you, Iwill come around here and read, as I have been doing, until youshall get a regular assistant."Mr. Tolman would be delighted to have him come, he said. Hehad entirely given up the idea of getting an assistant, but thishe did not say.It was some time before the lady came back, and Mr. Tolmanwas afraid she was not coming at all. But she did come, andasked for Mrs. Burney's "Evelina." She smiled when she named thebook, and said that she believed she would have to take a novel,after all, and she had always wanted to read that one."I wouldn't take a novel if I were you," said Mr. Tolman; andhe triumphantly took down the "Dormstock" and laid it before her.She was evidently much pleased, but when he told her of Mr.Glascow's gentlemanly conduct in the matter, her countenanceinstantly changed."Not at all," said she, laying down the book. "I will notbreak up his study. I will take the `Evelina' if you please."And as no persuasion from Mr. Tolman had any effect upon her,she went away with Mrs. Burney's novel in her muff."Now, then," said Mr. Tolman to Glascow, in the evening, "youmay as well take the book along with you. She won't have it."But Glascow would do nothing of the kind. "No," he remarked,as he sat looking into the stove. "When I said I would lether have it, I meant it. She'll take it when she sees that itcontinues to remain in the library."Glascow was mistaken: she did not take it, having the ideathat he would soon conclude that it would be wiser for him toread it than to let it stand idly on the shelf."It would serve them both right," said Mr. Tolman to himself,"if somebody else should come and take it." But there was no oneelse among his subscribers who would even think of such a thing.One day, however, the young lady came in and asked to look atthe book. "Don't think that I am going to take it out," shesaid, noticing Mr. Tolman's look of pleasure as he handed her thevolume. "I only wish to see what he says on a certain subjectwhich I am studying now." And so she sat down by the stove onthe chair which Mr. Tolman placed for her, and opened"Dormstock."She sat earnestly poring over the book for half an hour ormore, and then she looked up and said: "I really cannot make outwhat this part means. Excuse my troubling you, but I would bevery glad if you would explain the latter part of this passage.""Me!" exclaimed Mr. Tolman. "Why, my good madam,--miss, Imean,--I couldn't explain it to you if it were to save my life.But what page is it?" said he, looking at his watch."Page twenty-four," answered the young lady."Oh, well, then," said he, "if you can wait ten or fifteenminutes, the gentleman who has had the book will be here, and Ithink he can explain anything in the first part of the work."The young lady seemed to hesitate whether to wait or not; butas she had a certain curiosity to see what sort of a person hewas who had been so absorbed in the book, she concluded to sit alittle longer and look into some other parts of the volume.The night druggist soon came in, and when Mr. Tolmanintroduced him to the lady, he readily agreed to explain thepassage to her if he could. So Mr. Tolman got him a chair fromthe inner room, and he also sat down by the stove.The explanation was difficult, but it was achieved at last,and then the young lady broached the subject of leaving the bookunused. This was discussed for some time, but came to nothing,although Mr. Tolman put down his afternoon paper and joined inthe argument, urging, among other points, that as the matter nowstood he was deprived by the dead-lock of all income from thebook. But even this strong argument proved of no avail."Then I will tell you what I wish you would do," said Mr.Tolman, as the young lady rose to go: "come here and look at thebook whenever you wish to do so. I would like to make this moreof a reading-room, anyway. It would give me more company."After this the young lady looked into "Dormstock" when shecame in; and as her holidays had been extended by the continuedabsence of the family in which she taught, she had plenty of timefor study, and came quite frequently. She often met Glascow inthe shop, and on such occasions they generally consulted"Dormstock," and sometimes had quite lengthy talks on musicalmatters. One afternoon they came in together, having met ontheir way to the library, and entered into a conversation ondiapasonic logarithms, which continued during the lady's stay inthe shop."The proper thing," thought Mr. Tolman, "would be for thesetwo people to get married. Then they could take the book andstudy it to their heart's content. And they would certainly suiteach other, for they are both greatly attached to musicalmathematics and philosophy, and neither of them either plays orsings, as they have told me. It would be an admirable match."Mr. Tolman thought over this matter a good deal, and at lastdetermined to mention it to Glascow. When he did so, the youngman colored, and expressed the opinion that it would be of no useto think of such a thing. But it was evident from his manner andsubsequent discourse that he had thought of it.Mr. Tolman gradually became quite anxious on the subject,especially as the night druggist did not seem inclined to takeany steps in the matter. The weather was now beginning to bewarmer, and Mr. Tolman reflected that the little house and thelittle shop were probably much more cosey and comfortable inwinter than in summer. There were higher buildings all about thehouse, and even now he began to feel that the circulation of airwould be quite as agreeable as the circulation of books. Hethought a good deal about his airy rooms in the neighboring city."Mr. Glascow," said he, one afternoon, "I have made up mymind to sell out this business shortly.""What!" exclaimed the other. "Do you mean you will give itup and go away--leave the place altogether?""Yes," replied Mr. Tolman, "I shall give up the placeentirely, and leave the city."The night druggist was shocked. He had spent many happy hours inthat shop, and his hours there were now becoming pleasanter thanever. If Mr. Tolman went away, all this must end. Nothing ofthe kind could be expected of any new proprietor."And considering this," continued Mr. Tolman, "I think itwould be well for you to bring your love matters to a conclusionwhile I am here to help you.""My love matters!" exclaimed Mr. Glascow, with a flush."Yes, certainly," said Mr. Tolman. "I have eyes, and I knowall about it. Now let me tell you what I think. When a thing isto be done, it ought to be done the first time there is a goodchance. That's the way I do business. Now you might as wellcome around here to-morrow afternoon prepared to propose to MissEdwards. She is due to-morrow, for she has been two days away.If she doesn't come, we will postpone the matter until the nextday. But you should be ready to-morrow. I don't believe you cansee her much when you don't meet her here, for that family isexpected back very soon, and from what I infer from her accountof her employers, you won't care to visit her at their house."The night druggist wanted to think about it."There is nothing to think," said Mr. Tolman. "We know allabout the lady." (He spoke truly, for he had informed himselfabout both parties to the affair.) "Take my advice, and be hereto-morrow afternoon--and come rather early."The next morning Mr. Tolman went up to his parlor on thesecond floor, and brought down two blue stuffed chairs, the besthe had, and put them in the little room back of the shop. Healso brought down one or two knickknacks and put them on themantelpiece, and he dusted and brightened up the room as well ashe could. He even covered the table with a red cloth from theparlor.When the young lady arrived, he invited her to walk into theback room to look over some new books he had just got in. If shehad known he proposed to give up the business, she would havethought it rather strange that he should be buying new books.But she knew nothing of his intentions. When she was seated atthe table whereon the new books were spread, Mr. Tolman steppedoutside of the shop door to watch for Glascow's approach. Hesoon appeared."Walk right in," said Mr. Tolman. "She's in the back roomlooking over books. I'll wait here, and keep out customers asfar as possible. It's pleasant, and I want a little fresh air.I'll give you twenty minutes."Glascow was pale, but he went in without a word, and Mr.Tolman, with his hands under his coat-tail, and his feet ratherfar apart, established a blockade on the doorstep. He stoodthere for some time, looking at the people outside, and wonderingwhat the people inside were doing. The little girl who hadborrowed the milk of him, and who had never returned it, wasabout to pass the door; but seeing him standing there, shecrossed over to the other side of the street. But he did notnotice her. He was wondering if it was time to go in. A boycame up to the door, and wanted to know if he kept Easter eggs.Mr. Tolman was happy to say he did not. When he had allowed thenight druggist a very liberal twenty minutes, he went in. As heentered the shop door, giving the bell a very decided ring as hedid so, P. Glascow came down the two steps that led from theinner room. His face showed that it was all right with him.A few days after this Mr. Tolman sold out his stock, goodwill, and fixtures, together with the furniture and lease of thehouse. And who should he sell out to but to Mr. Glascow! Thispiece of business was one of the happiest points in the wholeaffair. There was no reason why the happy couple should not bemarried very soon, and the young lady was charmed to give up herposition as teacher and governess in a family, and come and takecharge of that delightful little store and that cunning littlehouse, with almost everything in it that they wanted.One thing in the establishment Mr. Tolman refused to sell.That was Dormstock's great work. He made the couple a present ofthe volume, and between two of the earlier pages he placed abank-note which in value was very much more than that of theordinary wedding gift."What are YOU going to do?" they asked of him, when allthese things were settled. And then he told them how he wasgoing back to his business in the neighboring city, and he toldthem what it was, and how he had come to manage a circulatinglibrary. They did not think him crazy. People who studied thelogarithms of the diapason would not be apt to think a man crazyfor such a little thing as that.When Mr. Tolman returned to the establishment of Pusey &Co., he found everything going on very satisfactorily."You look ten years younger, sir," said Mr. Canterfield. "Youmust have had a very pleasant time. I did not think therewas enough to interest you in ---- for so long a time.""Interest me!" exclaimed Mr. Tolman. "Why, objects of interestcrowded on me. I never had a more enjoyable holiday in my life."When he went home that evening (and he found himself quitewilling to go), he tore up the will he had made. He now feltthat there was no necessity for proving his sanity.

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