But it is not the first impulse of a nature healthful and still pure to
settle in the hovel and lose itself amidst the sewers; and Lenny
Fairfield turned innocently over the bad books, and selecting two or
three of the best, brought them to the tinker, and asked the price.

"Why," said Mr. Sprott, putting on his spectacles, "you has taken the
werry dearest: them 'ere be much cheaper, and more hinterestin'."

"But I don't fancy them," answered Lenny; "I don't understand what they
are about, and this seems to tell one how the steam-engine is made, and
has nice plates; and this is 'Robinson Crusoe,' which Parson Dale once
said he would give me--I'd rather buy it out of my own money."

"Well, please yourself," quoth the tinker; "you shall have the books for
four bob, and you can pay me next month."

"Four bobs, four shillings? it is a great sum," said Lenny; "but I will
lay by, as you are kind enough to trust me: good-evening, Mr. Sprott."

"Stay a bit," said the tinker; "I'll just throw you these two little
tracts into the bargain; they be only a shilling a dozen, so 't is but
tuppence,--and ven you has read those, vy, you'll be a regular customer."

The tinker tossed to Lenny Nos. 1 and 2 of "Appeals to Operatives," and
the peasant took them up gratefully.

The young knowledge-seeker went his way across the green fields, and
under the still autumn foliage of the hedgerows. He looked first at one
book, then at another; he did not know on which to settle.