The Globe-republican., 1892-09-02
HER SISTERS HONOR.
A Tale of English Life.
By Walter Besant.

who continue to live il TIE locality
where they have friends. There is the
young fellow who comes regularly tC
consult all the papers on sporting mat
tiers. He collects the prophetic tips, and
notes the odds in book; he would fain
be Sharp, but he, too often, remains q
Ju9gins. There is the boy who comes
here whenever he can get the chance to
sit in corner and dream away the time
deliciOusly over a story. There is the
poor country lad who has more knOwl-
edge in his little finger than London
artisan in his whole body, who under
stands how to pillow and SOW and reap,
and stack and thrash; who can cultivate
an allotment; who knows sheep and
beasts, and pigs and horses; who can
foretell the weather. Yet he has thrown
it all over and come up to London, where
he has nothing but his pair of hands and
his strong arms, and his grea knowl-
edge avails him nothing. It's as if you
turned professor Of mathematics into
a Diapers shop, where they would use
him for nothing but to sweep the floor
and carry out the parcels. He rolls in
to the library accidentally, and not lik-
ing the place or the smell (which is not
in the least like the smell of the earth) :,
he goes out again.
The librarian knows them all. He
watches in the silent room as the clock
over his head ticks loudly, and makes
up their little stories for them. Some
| times they whisper little with him.
He is sympathetic creature, and they
will confide their case to him asking for
his advice. They do not seek it in the
search for book to read, but in search
for work. And sometimes he knows,
or has heard things, which may help
them. Other librarians, you see, get a
vast and intimate acquaintance with
books. This librarian is more useful to
his readers if he knows the contents of
the trade journals.
Sometimes, however, as in the case
Of Naomi Hellyer, he was altogether at
sea. Naomi first appeared on this
Saturday evening. She came in timidly,
and looked about her with hesitation.
There was no other woman in the place.
Perhaps women were not admitted.
Then the librarian stepped out Of his
corner and invited her to take seat
and ask for anything she might want.
He saw woman Of thirty dressed in
the black stuff frock of workwoman,
VIII q ClOtu JtChcG, CuOuRu was 80
warm an evening. Her dress was per-
fectly neat and well-fitting; her gloves
we're worn; she had the appearance of
resolute responsibility coupled with
small pay. Her face was thin and pale,
beautiful, but she looked steady and
serious-what is called responsible. The
librarian noticed these things; he also
nnfiNnA for hn nhcovvyonk
ture, as we'll as sympathetic, that there
was trouble in the face-abiding trouble.
When she took off her worn glove the
librarian saw upon her foreflnger the
usual sign Of needlework, which wo-
man can no more disguise than mulatto
can disguise the black streaks below his
finger-nails. She took place at one Of
the tables and began to turn over the
leaves Of an illustrated paper, but lam
guidly, as If she took no interest in what
she read. The librarian. watching her
from his corner, observed that she pres
emily put down the paper and began to
walk about, reading the titles on the
books on the shelves as if she was in
search of something.
Being a conscientious librarian as
we'll as observant and sympathetic, he
left his place in the corner aud asked
her II there were any work which she
wished to read. She shook her head. |
There was nothing, she said. The |
librarian observed that she had an ex-
tremely sweet voice. He also observed |
that she went looking at the titles as If
she really did want something.
The librarian was experienced as
we'll as conscientious, observant, and |
sympathetic. He discovered that there |
was something behind this restless curl
osity.
L think you are looking for some
book" he said. If you will tell me |
what it is"
Have you got, she asked, coloring |
deeply, amy book that tells about"
She hesitated.
About" he repeated.
About women here she looked |
about to make sure that nobody else |
could hear, and her voice dropped to |
whiSper-"about women in prison, how |
they are treated, an how they live?"
I'VE have book called Five Years Of |
Penal Servitude,' he replied, but that
is about male convicts, not women"
May see that?"
He found and gave her the volume.
When the library closed she brought |
him back the book, and went away.
But her eyes were T,d. She had been !
crying.
During the week the librarian found
himself thinking a good deal about this
woman. She looked refined and deli
cate, perhaps above the position she
now held, which seemed to be poorly
paid, judging from her dress. BY her
LANGUAGE and her manner she showed
herself what is called ladylike or what
ladies prefer to call rather o superior
person He could not remember whether
she wore a wedding ring. He hoped
that she would come again.
On Saturday evening she did come
again. The librarian greeted her with
the smile reserved for habitual readers.
Let me find you another book, he said.
please let me have the same"-as il
the librarian should remember every
book taken up by every reader But he
did hor hor hob -