"I suppose you would like to see some of the additions to the library," Miss Blaythwaite continued, "father bought books until he died. You know he caught pneumonia by going to an auction-sale, one cold day last winter. This is the book he bought,—but at what a cost!"
She took from the shelves which lined the walls, a small volume. It was a copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets, the first edition; published in 1609.
"And the strange part of it all, Mr. Hooker, I believe in my heart that papa never regretted its purchase."
Hooker was about to remark that it was worth the risk, but checked himself in time.
"It was foolish. Your father, however, was a true bibliophile."
Miss Blaythwaite returned this volume of volumes to its position in the case, and when Hooker saw it, he turned pale. She had put it in upside down—a terrible thing to do. One would have to stand upon his head to read the title, and booklovers do not believe in gymnastics.
He immediately placed it in its proper position, carefully, tenderly—as if it had been a baby, which was precious to him, but not quite so precious as an old book or manuscript!
"Father could not bear us to put books in upside down, but mother and I would often forget, and the way father scolded, you would think we had committed a horrid crime."
At this, they both laughed.
When Hooker was shown the breviary, he lingered for a long time over its magic pages. He felt the cool vellum leaves with his fingers, for fear lest the missal would slip through his hand, and disappear forever!