“Thank you, Miss Annie;” and Bobby hastened to the village to execute his commission.

“I wonder what he wants to see pa so very particularly for,” said the young lady to herself, as she watched his receding form.  “In my opinion, something has happened, at the little black house, for I could see that he looked very sober.”

Either Bobby had a very great regard for the young lady, and wished to relieve her impatience to behold the coveted books, or he was in a hurry to see Squire Lee; for the squire’s old roan horse could hardly have gone quicker.

“You should not have run, Bobby,” said the little maiden when he placed the books in her hand; “I would not have asked you to go if I had thought you would run all the way.  You must be very tired.”

“Not at all; I didn’t run, only walked very quick,” replied he; but his quick breathing indicated that his words or his walk had been very much exaggerated.  “Has your father returned?”

“He has; he is waiting for you in the sitting room.  Come in, Bobby.”

Bobby followed her into the room, and took the chair which Annie offered him.

“How do you do, Bobby?  I am glad to see you,” said the squire, taking him by the hand, and bestowing a benignant smile upon him—­a smile which cheered his heart more than any thing else could at that moment.  “I have heard of you before to-day.”

“Have you?”

“I have, Bobby; you are a brave little fellow.”

“I came over to see you, sir, about something very particular,” replied Bobby, whose natural modesty induced him to change the topic.

“Indeed; well, what can I do for you?”

“A great deal, sir; perhaps you will think I am very bold, sir, but I can’t help it.”

“I know you are a very bold little fellow, or you would not have done what you did this forenoon,” laughed the squire.

“I didn’t mean that, sir,” answered Bobby, blushing up to the eyes.

“I know you didn’t; but go on.”

“I only meant that you would think me presuming, or impudent, or something of that kind.”

“O, no, far from it.  You cannot be presuming or impudent.  Speak out, Bobby; any thing under the heavens that I can do for you, I shall be glad to do.”

“Well, sir, I am going to leave Riverdale.”

“Leave Riverdale!”

“Yes, sir; I am going to Boston, where I mean to do something to help mother.”

“Bravo! you are a good lad.  What do you mean to do?”

“I was thinking I should go into the book business.”

“Indeed!” and Squire Lee was much amused by the matter-of-fact manner of the young aspirant.

“I was talking with a young fellow who went through the place last spring, selling books.  He told me that some days he made three or four dollars, and that he averaged twelve dollars a week.”

“He did well; perhaps, though, only a few of them make so much.”