"This proposed transaction seemed to Abner to be a little outside of a
librarian's business, but he put his hand in his pocket and said he
would see. When he had extracted all the change that pocket contained he
found that he was the owner of three nickels and five copper cents. He
tried some other pockets, but there was no money in any of them. He was
disappointed; he did not want to begin his intercourse with the
townspeople by failing to do the first favor asked of him. He looked
around the room; he rubbed his nose. In a moment an idea struck him.

"'How much do you want to get out of this quarter?' said he.

"'Ten cents, sir,' said the girl with the plaits. 'The woman's waitin'
fer it now.'

"'I'll tell you,' said Abner, 'what I can do. All I have got is twenty
cents. Two of these nickels will do for the woman, and then for the
other five cents you can take out a book for a week. A duodecimo volume
for a week is five cents. Is there any duodecimo volume you would like?'

"The girl with the plaits said she didn't know, and that all she wanted
was change for a quarter.

"'Which this will be,' said Abner.

"Asking the little girls to follow him, he approached the book-shelves.
'Now here's something,' said he, presently, taking down a book. 'It's
Buck's Theological Dictionary, and it's got a lot of different things in
it. Some of them your mother might like to read to you, and some of them
she might like to read to herself. I once read one piece in that book
myself. It is about the Inquisition, and when I began it I couldn't stop
until I got to the end of it. I guess your mother might like to read
that, even if she don't read it to you.'

"The little girl said she didn't know whether her mother would like it
or not, but what she had been sent for was change for a quarter.

"'This will be the same thing,' said Abner; 'twenty cents in money, and
five cents for a duodecimo for one week. So take the money and the book,
my dear, and tell your mother that if she keeps it out longer than one
week there'll be a fine.'

"The child and the duodecimo departed, and Abner sat down again, and
wiped his brow. 'There's one customer,' said he, 'and that's the way to
do business. They come to get you to do somethin' for them, and before
they know it they're doin' business with you, payin' cash in advance.
But there's one thing I forgot. I oughter asked them young ones what
their mother's name was. But I'll remember 'em, specially the one with
the plaited hair, so it's all the same.'

"The little girls went home. 'It's a new man at the library,' said the
one with the plaits, 'and he hadn't got no more'n twenty cents in money;
but he sent you a book for the other five cents.'

"The mother, with her baby in her lap, sent the ten cents to the woman
who was waiting, and then took the book, which opened quite naturally at
the article on the Inquisition, and began to read. And, although the
baby grew restless and began to cry, she didn't stop reading until she
had finished that article. 'It's fully worth five cents,' she said to
herself, as she put it on the shelf for future perusal.

"It was not long before the thought struck Abner that he was losing
opportunities which spread themselves around him, so he jumped up and
took down a book. The volume proved to be one of 'Elegant Extracts'; but
after reading certain reflections 'Upon Seeing Mr. Pope's House at
Binfield' he thought he would like something more in the nature of a
story, and took up a thinner volume entitled 'Dick's Future State.' He
turned over the leaves, hoping to meet with some of the adventures of
Dick; but his attention was arrested by a passage which asserted that
arithmetic would be one of the occupations to be followed in heaven. He
was about to put away the book in disgust--for to him there was no need
of a man's being good in this world if he were to be condemned to
arithmetic in the next--when the light from the open door was darkened
by a large body who approached in carpet slippers, making no noise. This
proved to be a round and doleful negro woman, a greater part of her face
wrapped up in a red-and-green handkerchief. Her attire was somewhat
nondescript, and entirely unsuggestive of literary inclinations. She
groaned as she entered the room.

"'Whar Mr. Bro'nsill?' she asked, with one hand to her face.

"Abner was amazed. Was it possible that this woman could read, and that
she cared for books? He explained the situation, and assured her that he
could attend to her just as well as the regular librarian.

"'I's mighty glad to hear dat,' said the woman, 'I's mighty glad to hear
dat, for I hasn't slep' one wink for dis tooth. Mr. Bro'nsill he allus
pulls my teeth, and dey nebber has been one what ached as bad as dis.'

"With this she began to unwrap her swollen face.

"'You needn't do that,' cried Abner. 'I can't pull teeth. You must go to
the dentist.'

"'That'll be fifty cents,' said the woman, 'and Mr. Bro'nsill he don'
charge nothin'. I know whar he keeps his pinchers. Dey's in dat drawer
in de table. And you kin pull it out jes as well as anudder pusson. I'd
pull hit out ef I wuz anudder pusson.'

"Abner shook his head. 'I never pulled a tooth,' he said. 'I don't know
nothin' about it.'

"'Don' dey tell somethin' about pullin' teeth in dese here books?' said
the woman.

"Abner shook his head. 'There may be,' he said, 'but I don't know where
to find it.'

"'And you's de librarian,' said she, in a tone of supreme contempt, 'and
don' know how to fin' what's in de books!' And with this she re-wrapped
her face and wabbled away.

"'I hope the next one will want a book,' said Abner to himself, 'and
won't want nothin' else. If I'm to be librarian I want to fork out
books.'

"The morning passed, and no one else appeared. The forenoon was not the
time when people generally came for books in that town.

"After he had eaten the dinner he had brought, Abner sat down to
meditate a little. He was not sure that the life of a librarian would
suit him. It was almost as lonesome as hoeing corn.

"Some time after these reflections--it might have been a minute, it
might have been an hour--he was awakened by a man's voice, and suddenly
started upright in his chair.

"'Hello!' said the voice. 'You keepin' library for old Brownsill?'

"'That's what I'm doin',' said Abner; 'he's away for his holiday.'

"The new-comer, Joe Pearson, was an odd creature. I remember him well.
He had been assistant to the town clerk, but was now out of a position.
He was a stout man with little eyes, and wore a shiny black coat, and
no collar.

"'I am glad to hear it,' he said. 'Mr. Brownsill's a little too sharp
for my fancy; I'd rather do business with you. Have you got any books on
eggs?'

"'I don't know,' said Abner, 'but I can look. What kind of eggs?'

"'I don't suppose there's a different book for every kind of egg,' said
Joe; 'I guess they're lumped.'

"'All right,' said Abner; 'step up to the shelves, and we'll take a
look. Now here's one that I've just been glancin' over myself. It seems
to have a lot of different things in it: it's called "Elegant
Extracts."'

"'"Elegant Extracts" won't do,' said Joe; 'they ain't eggs.'

"'E, E, E,' said Abner, looking along the line, and anxious to make a
good show in the eyes of his acquaintance, who had the reputation of
being a man of considerable learning. '"Experimental Christianity"--but
that won't do.'

"After fifteen or twenty minutes occupied in scrutiny of backs of books,
Joe Pearson gave up the search. 'I don't believe there's a book on eggs
in the whole darned place,' said he. 'That's just like Brownsill; he
hasn't got no fancy for nothin' practical.'

"'What do you want to know about eggs?' said Abner.

"Mr. Pearson did not immediately answer, but after a few moments of
silent consideration he walked to the door and closed it. Then he sat
down, and invited Abner to sit by him. 'Look here, Abner Batterfield,'
said he; 'I've got a idee that's goin' to make my fortune. I want
somebody to help me, and I don't see why you couldn't do it as well as
anybody else. For one thing, you've got a farm.'

"As he said this Abner started back. 'Confound the farm!' he said. 'I've
given up farmin', and I don't want nothin' more to do with it.'

"'Yes, you will,' said Pearson, 'when I've told you what I'm goin' to
do. But it won't be common farmin': it'll be mighty different. There's
money in this kind of farmin', and no work, nuther, to mention.'

"Abner now became interested.

"'It concerns eggs,' said Pearson. 'Abner, did you ever hear about the
eggs of the great auk?'

"'Great hawk!' said Abner.

"'Not _hawk_! Auk--a-u-k.'

"'Never seen the bird,' said Abner.

"'I reckon not,' said the other. 'They say they disappeared some time
before the war; but I don't believe that. I've been readin' a piece
about 'em, Abner, and I tell you it just roused me up, and that's the
reason I've come here s'posin' I might find a book that might give me
some new p'ints. But I reckon I know enough to work on.'

"'Is there anything uncommon about 'em?' asked Abner.

"'Uncommon!' exclaimed the other. 'Do you know what a great auk's egg is
wuth? It's one thousand eight hundred dollars!'

"'A car-load?' asked Abner.

"'Stuff!' ejaculated Mr. Pearson. 'It's that much for _one_; and that
one blowed--nothin' but a shell--not a thing inside. And eighteen
hundred dollars!'

"'By George!' exclaimed Abner. 'Eighteen hundred dollars!'

"'And that's the lowest figure. Great auk eggs is wuth twenty-one
thousand and six hundred dollars a dozen!'

"Abner rose from his chair. 'Joe Pearson,' he said, 'what are you
talkin' about?'

"'I'm talkin' about makin' the biggest kind of money, and if you choose
to go in with me you can make big money too. I'm all correct, and I can
show you the figures.'

"Abner now sat down and leaned over toward Pearson. 'Whar's it likely to
fin' nests?' said he.

"'Nests!' exclaimed Pearson, in disdain. 'If I could find two of
'em--fresh ones--I'd call my fortune made.'

"'I should say so,' said Abner, 'sellin' for thirty-six hundred dollars!
But what is there so all-fired good about 'em to make 'em sell like
that?'

"'Scerceness,' said Joe. 'Apart from scerceness they ain't no better'n
any other egg. But there's mighty few of 'em in market now, and all of
them's blowed.'

"'And no good?' said Abner.

"'They say not,' said the other. 'For scerceness they're better blowed
than stale, which they're bound to be if they're kept.'

"'But what's your idea about 'em?' said Abner.

"'That's what I'm goin' to tell you,' replied Pearson. 'There's a
general notion that there ain't no more great auks, specially hen great
auks, and that's why their eggs are so scerce. But I don't see the p'int
of that. It don't stand to reason; for now and then somebody gets a
great auk egg. If you find 'em they've got to be laid; and if they're
laid there's got to be hen great auks somewhere. Now the p'int is to
find out where them great auks lay. It may be a awful job to do it, but
if I can do it, and get just two eggs, my fortune's made, and yourn
too.'

[Illustration: "Abner, did you ever hear about the eggs of the great
auk?"]

"'Would you divide the thirty-six hundred dollars even?'--now very much
interested.

"'Divide!' sneered Pearson. 'Do you suppose I'd sell 'em? No, sir; I'd
set 'em under a turkey, or perhaps a big hen. Then, sir, I'd go into the
great auk business. I'd sell auk eggs, and make my fortune, and yourn
too.'

"'And young ones, if we get a lot?'

"'No, sir!' exclaimed Pearson. 'Nobody'd own no auks but me. You can't
catch 'em alive. And I wouldn't sell no eggs at all till they'd first
been blowed. I'd keep the business all in my own hands. Abner, I've been
thinkin' a great deal about this thing. You've heard about the lively
sixpence and the slow dollar? Well, sir, I'm goin' to sell them auk eggs
for sixteen hundred dollars, two for three thousand.'"

"John Gayther," said the Master of the House, "you will not make me
believe that you ever knew two such fools."

"In the course of my life," said the Old Professor, "I have known
several of them."

"Not looking for auks' eggs?" inquired the Next Neighbor.

"Something just as impracticable," he said.

"The North Pole, for instance," suggested the Mistress of the House.

"I think," said John, "they are more likely to find that than my friends
were to find what they sought. But we shall see. Abner looked at his
companion. 'That would be better than 'most any other kind of business,'
said he. 'Where do you go to get them eggs?'

"''Way up north,' said Pearson; 'and the furder north you go the more
likely you are to find 'em.'

"'I don't know about goin' north,' said Abner, reflectively; 'there's
Mrs. B. to consider.'

"'But I don't want you to go,' said Pearson. 'I'm goin' north. And when
I've found a couple o' auk eggs, I'll pack 'em up nice and warm in
cotton, and send 'em down to you, and have 'em hatched. That's where
your farm'll come in. You've got to have a farm and turkeys or big hens
if you want to raise auks. Then I'll go on lookin', and, most likely,
I'll get a couple more.'

"'That'll be a good thing,' said Abner; 'the more the merrier. I'll go
in with you, Joe Pearson. That's the sort of business that'll just suit
me. But I'll tell you one thing, Joe: I wouldn't put the price of them
eggs down at first; I'd wait until a couple of dozen had been laid and
blowed, and then, perhaps, I'd put the price down.'

"'No, sir,' said Joe; 'I'll put the price down at the very beginning.
Sixteen hundred dollars, or three thousand for two, is enough for any
eggs, and we oughter be satisfied with it.'

"'And when are you goin' to start north?' asked Abner.

"'That's the p'int,' said Pearson, 'that's the p'int. You see, Abner, I
ain't got no family, and I can start north whenever I please, as far as
that's concerned. But there's obstacles. For one thing, I ain't got the
right kind of clothes; and then there's other things. It's awful hard
lines startin' out on a business like this, and the more money there is
in it the harder the lines.'

"'But you can do it, Joe,' said Abner. 'I feel in my bones you can do
it. It'll be blackgum ag'in' thunder, but you'll be blackgum, and you'll
come out all right.'

"'I can't be blackgum nor nothin' else,' said Pearson, 'if I don't get
no help; specially if I don't get no help from the party what's goin' to
get a lot of the money.'

"Abner reflected. 'If we was to set any auk eggs next month, it'll be
well on into next summer before we'd have eggs to sell.'

"Pearson also reflected. 'Yes,' he said; 'and it might be a little later
than that. You've got to leave a margin. I allus leave a margin. Then
I'm safe.'

"'Yes,' said Abner; 'then you're safe.'

"Joe Pearson was a man of resourceful discretion. He rose now. 'Abner,'
said he, 'I've got to go; I've got a lot of things on my hands. And I
want you to remember that what I've said to you I said to you, and I
wouldn't have no other man know nothin' about it. If anybody else should
hear of this thing, and go north, and get ahead of me, it would
be--well, I don't know what to say it would be, I've such feelin's about
it. I've offered to take you in because you've got a farm, and because I
think you're a good man, and would know how to take care of auks when
they was hatched. But there's a lot for me to do. There's maps to look
over, and time-tables; and I must be off. But I'll stop in to-morrer,
Abner, and we'll talk this over again.'

"When Pearson had gone, Abner sat and stared steadily at a knot-hole in
the floor. 'Mrs. B.,' he said to himself, 'has allus been a great one on
eggs. She's the greatest one on eggs I ever knowed. If she'd go in, now,
the thing 'u'd be just as good as done. When she knows what's ahead of
us she oughter go in. That's all I've got to say about it.'

"The significance of these reflections depended upon the fact that
Mrs. Batterfield had a small income. It was upon this fact that there
depended the other fact that there were three meals a day in the
Batterfield household. It was this fact, also, which was the cause of
Mr. Joe Pearson's visit to the library. He was very well acquainted with
Abner, although he knew Mrs. Batterfield but slightly; but he was aware
of her income.

"After reflecting for about twenty minutes or half an hour upon the
exciting proposition which had been made to him, Abner grew very
impatient. 'No use of my stayin' here,' he said; 'there's nobody goin'
to get out books in this hot weather; so I'll just shut up shop and go
home. I never did want to see Mrs. Batterfield as much as I want to see
her now.'

"'Libraries seem to shut up early,' said Mrs. Batterfield, as her
husband walked into the front yard.

"'Yes, they do,' said Abner, 'in summer-time.'

"All the way from town he had been rehearsing to himself the story he
was going to tell; but he hadn't finished it yet, and he wanted to get
it all straight before he began, so he walked over to the barn and sat
down on an inverted horse-bucket to get his story all straight before he
began. When he got it all straight he concluded not to tell it until
after supper. But when that meal was finished, and everything had been
cleared away, and Mrs. Batterfield had gone to sit on the front porch,
as was her evening custom, he sat down by her and told his story.

"He made the tale as attractive as he possibly could make it. He even
omitted the fact that Joe Pearson intended to sell his first eggs for
sixteen hundred dollars instead of eighteen hundred, and he diminished
by very many hundred miles the length of Joe Pearson's probable journey
to the north. In fact, had his suppositions been nearly correct, the
remaining specimens of the great auk would have been birds of very
temperate dispositions, so far as latitude was concerned.

"Mrs. Batterfield listened with great attention. She was engaged upon
some sewing on which her eyes were fixed, but her ears drank in every
word that Abner said. When he had finished, she laid down her sewing,
for it was beginning to get a little dark for even her sharp eyes, and
remarked: 'And he wants some warm clothes? Furs, I suppose?'

"'Yes,' said Abner; 'I expect they'd be furs.'

"'And travelling expenses?' she asked.

"'Yes; I suppose he'd want help in that way. Of course, since he's
makin' me such a big offer, he'll expect me to put in somethin'.'

"Mrs. Batterfield made no reply, but folded up her sewing and went
indoors. He waited until she had time to retire, then he closed the
house and went up himself.

"'She'll want to sleep on that,' said he; 'it'll be a good thing for her
to sleep on it. She mayn't like it at first, but I'll go at her ag'in
to-morrer, and I'm goin' to stick to it. I reckon it'll be the worst
rassle we ever had; but it's blackgum ag'in' thunder, and I'm
blackgum.'

"When Abner reached his chamber he found his wife sitting quietly by the
table, on which burned a lamp.

"'Hello!' said he. 'I thought you'd be abed and asleep!'

"'I didn't want to do my talkin' out front,' said she, 'for there might
be people passin' along the road. I think you said this was to be a case
of blackgum ag'in' thunder!'

"'Yes,' said Abner, in a somewhat uncertain tone.

"'Well, then,' said Mrs. Batterfield, 'I'm thunder.'

"It was very late when that couple went to bed, but it was very early
the next morning when Abner rose. He split a great deal of fire-wood
before breakfast, and very soon after that meal he put his hoe on his
shoulder and went to his corn-field. He remembered that there were three
rows of corn which he had hoed upon only one side.

"The library was not opened that day, and it remained closed until
Mr. Brownsill returned. The failure in the supply of books did not
occasion very much comment in the town, for everybody agreed that
Mr. Brownsill was a good man and ought to have a holiday. There were
four persons in the place--a little girl with plaited hair and a sister;
a colored woman with a bad tooth; and Joe Pearson--who knew that Abner
Batterfield had held, for a time, the office of librarian.

"When his vacation had expired, Mr. Brownsill came home, and on the
second morning after his arrival, Abner Batterfield appeared before
him.

"'I had to come in town,' said Abner, 'and so I thought I'd step in here
and see about my pay.'

"The librarian looked at him. 'How long were you here?' he asked. 'I've
been told that the library was shut up for two weeks.'

"'I was here for three quarters of a day,' said Abner. 'That's about as
near as I can calculate.'

"The librarian took up a pencil and made a calculation.

"'By the way,' said he, 'you must have done some business. I miss our
copy of Buck's Theological Dictionary; but I find no entry about it.'

"'That was took out as change,' said Abner. 'Five cents for a duodecimo
for a week, and the rest in change. If the woman hasn't brought it back
she owes a week's fine.'

"'Who was the woman?' asked the librarian.

"'I don't know,' said Abner; 'but she has a daughter with plaited hair
and a small sister. While I'm in town I'll try to look 'em up.'

"'In the meantime,' said Mr. Brownsill, 'I'll have to charge you for the
book; and, deducting your pay for three quarters of a day, you now owe
me seventy-five cents. I don't suppose there's any use talking about the
fines I have got down against you?'

"'I don't believe there is,' said Abner.

"The librarian could not help smiling, so dejected was the tone in which
these last words were spoken.

"'By the way,' said he, 'how about your great fight you were talking
about--blackgum ag'in' thunder? How did that turn out?'

"Abner in his turn smiled.

"'Blackgum was split as fine as matches,' said he."

"I can't help feeling sorry for the old fellow," said the Next Neighbor,
when John had concluded his story. "I always have sympathy with great
ambitions."

"And if Joe Pearson had got far enough north," said the Mistress of the
House, "he would have found no eggs, but he might have stumbled over the
North Pole."

"It is a pity the old fellow had to tell his wife," said the Master of
the House. "Women ruin great ambitions by too much common-sense. A great
many of the inventions we now consider necessary would have been utterly
lost to us if some men's brains had not been a little addled. A woman
would have set them straight, and that would have been the end. That is
the reason so few women are inventors; they have too much sense."

"That is a very left-handed compliment," said the Daughter of the House.
"You are always decrying inventions, which is strange. How would you
like to sail a ship without steam?"

"It would be a great deal pleasanter, my dear, and much cleaner."

"There are patent contrivances for garden-work," said John Gayther, "and
I don't say that they don't help, especially in planting-time; but, like
the captain, I prefer the old ways that bring the gardener and the earth
close together. The old, simple instruments seem like friends. I feel as
if something went from me through the hoe-handle to the plants; and when
the seed drops from my hands instead of from a seeder, it seems to me it
takes a message direct from me to the earth that receives it."

                *       *       *       *       *

The stories are all told. The winter has come. The orchard is stripped
of its leaves, and, sere and brown, they cover the garden paths and are
strewn over the box borders. The fruits are all garnered. The bare vines
that cover the summer-house are like dead memories of what has been. The
vegetable-beds are empty. The black frost has settled upon bloom and
foliage on the upper terrace. The sweet, blithe song of the red thrush
has ceased. The family have gone to a sunnier clime. And John Gayther
walks alone in his garden.