“Yes; that’s the trouble,” chimed in Lois.  “There isn’t any place fit for anything like that in our town.”

Lydia glanced appealingly from one to the other of the two faces.  One might have thought her irresolute—­or even afraid of their verdict.

“I had thought,” she said slowly, “of buying the old Bolton bank building.  It has not been used for anything, Judge Fulsom says, since—­”

“No; it ain’t,” acquiesced Mrs. Daggett soberly, “not since—­”

She fell silent, thinking of the dreadful winter after the bank failure, when scarlet fever raged among the impoverished homes.

“There’s been some talk, off and on, of opening a store there,” chimed in Lois Daggett, setting down her cup with a clash; “but I guess nobody’d patronize it.  Folks don’t forget so easy.”

“But it’s a good substantial building,” Lydia went on, her eyes resting on Mrs. Daggett’s broad, rosy face, which still wore that unwonted look of pain and sadness.  “It seems a pity not to change the—­the associations.  The library and reading room could be on the first floor; and on the second, perhaps, a town hall, where—­”

“For the land sake!” ejaculated Lois Daggett; “you cer’nly have got an imagination, Miss Orr.  I haven’t heard that town hall idea spoken of since Andrew Bolton’s time.  He was always talking about town improvements; wanted a town hall and courses of lectures, and a fountain playing in a park and a fire-engine, and the land knows what.  He was a great hand to talk, Andrew Bolton was.  And you see how he turned out!”

“And mebbe he’d have done all those nice things for Brookville, Lois, if his speculations had turned out different,” said Mrs. Daggett, charitably.  “I always thought Andrew Bolton meant all right.  Of course he had to invest our savings; banks always do, Henry says.”

“I don’t know anything about investing, and don’t want to, either—­not the kind he did, anyhow,” retorted Lois Daggett.

She arose as she spoke, brushing the crumbs of sponge cake from her skirt.

“I got to get that order right in,” she said:  “five copies—­or was it six, you said?”

“I think I could use six,” murmured Lydia.

“And all leather-bound!  Well, now, I know you won’t ever be sorry.  It’s one of those works any intelligent person would be proud to own.”

“I’m sure it is,” said the girl gently.

She turned to Mrs. Daggett.

“Can’t you stay awhile longer?  I—­I should like—­”

“Oh, I guess Abby’d better come right along with me,” put in Lois briskly ... “and that reminds me, do you want to pay something down on that order?  As a general thing, where I take a big order—­”

“Of course—­I’d forgotten; I always prefer to pay in advance.”

The girl opened the tall desk and producing a roll of bills told off the price of her order into Miss Daggett’s hand.