‘Shall I go and ask Mrs. Butterfield if she has one?’

‘Oh no, I’ll go myself.’

‘I’ll run—­it won’t take me a minute!’

She went out by the door that led into the house.  In the dark passage she was startled by coming in contact with someone.

‘Oh, who is that?’

A muttered reply informed her that it was the old woman.  They went forward into the nearest room.  There was a disagreeable smile on Mrs. Butterfield’s thin lips.

‘If you please, have you got a hammer?’ Thyrza asked.  ’Mr. Egremont wants one.’

The old woman went apart, and returned with a hammer which was used for breaking coals.

‘Oh, could you just wipe it?’ Thyrza said.  ’The handle’s so very black.’

It was done, ungraciously enough, and Thyrza hastened back.  Egremont was standing as she had left him.

‘Ah, now I can manage!  Thank you.’

With absorbed interest Thyrza watched the process.

‘I saw them bringing the last box in,’ she said; ’that’s why I came to look.’

’That was a risk I foresaw—­that someone would notice the cart.  But perhaps you are the only one.’

‘I hope so—­as you don’t want any one to know.’

She paused, then added: 

’I was going to meet Lyddy—­my sister.  I don’t go to work myself now, Mr. Egremont.  Perhaps Gilbert has told you?’

‘No, he hasn’t mentioned it.  But I am glad to hear it.’

’I don’t much like my sister going alone, but she doesn’t really mind.’

‘I hope I shall soon know your sister.’

He had suspended the work, and stood with one foot upon the case.  Thyrza reflected, then said: 

‘I hope you will like her, Mr. Egremont.’

‘I am sure I shall.  I know that you are very fond of your sister.’

‘Yes.’  Her voice faltered a little.  ’I couldn’t have gone to live away from her.’

Egremont bent to his task again, and speedily raised the lid.  There was a covering of newspapers, and then the books were revealed.

‘Now,’ he said, ’it shall be your hand that puts the first on the shelf.’

He took out the first volume of a copy of Gibbon, and walked with it to the wall.

‘This shall be its place, and there it shall always stay.’

‘Will you tell me what the book is about, Mr. Egremont?’ Thyrza asked, timidly taking it from him.  ‘I should like to remember it.’

He told her, as well as he could.  Thyrza stood in thought for a moment, then just opened the pages.  Egremont watched her.

‘I wonder whether I shall ever be able to read that?’ she said, in an under-voice.

‘Oh yes, I’m sure you will.’

‘And I’ve to stand it here?’

’Just there.  You shall put all the volumes in their place, one after the other.  There are eight of them.’

He brought them altogether, and one by one she took them from him.  Then they went back to the case again, and there was a short silence.