yourself all day?"

It was only in his most happy and resplendent moods that the Archdeacon
held jocular conversations with his daughter. These conversations had
been, in the past, moments of agony and terror to her, but since that
morning when she had suddenly woken to a realisation of the marvellous
possibilities in life her terror had left her. There were other people in
the word besides her father....

Nevertheless, a little, her agitation was still with her. She looked up at
him, smiling.

"Oh, I don't know, father.... I went to the Library this morning to change
the books for mother--"

"Novels, I suppose. No one ever reads anything but trash nowadays."

"They hadn't anything that mother put down. They never have. Miss Milton
sits on the new novels and keeps them for Mrs. Sampson and Mrs.
Combermere."

"Sits on them?"

"Yes--really sits on them. I saw her take one from under her skirt the
other day when Mrs. Sampson asked for it. It was one that mother has
wanted a long time."

The Archdeacon was angry. "I never heard anything so scandalous. I'll just
see to that. What's the use of being on the Library Committee if that kind
of thing happens? That woman shall go."