a figure-head and he knew it, but he saw no decent escape from the
position. As long as they allowed him and the librarian (who was also a
member of the board) to regulate the library to their liking, he could
not inquire into their motives or decline association with them. He was
perfectly free to furnish what mental food he chose to two hundred
thousand people, and he felt it would be cowardice to surrender that
important duty on any pitiful question of patronage or personal
susceptibility.

So once more he stifled the impulse to resign his post, and the meeting
adjourned without further incident. As he walked home, he was conscious
of a disagreeable foreboding of something in the future which he would
like to avoid. Bringing his mind to bear upon it, it resolved itself
into nothing more formidable than the coming interview with Miss
Matchin. It would certainly be unpleasant to tell her that her hopes
were frustrated, when she had seemed so confident. At this thought, he
felt the awakening of a sense of protectorship; she had trusted in him;
he ought to do something for her, if for nothing else, to show that he
was not dependent upon those ostrogoths. But what could be done for
such a girl, so pretty, so uncultivated, so vulgarly fantastic? Above
all, what could be done for her by a young and unmarried man?
Providence and society have made it very hard for single men to show
kindness to single women in any way but one.

At his door he found Sam Sleeny with a kit of tools; he had just rung
the bell. He turned, as Farnham mounted the steps, and said:

"I come from Matchin's--something about the greenhouse."

"Yes," answered Farnham. "The gardener is over yonder at the corner of