"Oh, Miss Patterson, I've remembered all about it now. You see, it starts this way. There is a girl, a New York girl, who has married an English lord, or, rather, she is just going to marry him—the brother of the first man she was engaged to steps in, and tells her that the lord isn't genuine, and he presents her maid with a jeweled pin which his mother, the countess, received from her husband—her first husband, that is—three days after the battle of—oh, I don't know the name of the battle—the 'Charge of the Light Brigade,' it was, and he was in that—no, his uncle was, and he said to his tent-mate, the night before the battle: 'Charley, I'm not coming out of this alive, and my cousin will be the lawful heir, but I want you to take this and dig with it underneath the floor of the old summer house, and the papers that you will find there will make Gerald a rich man.' And so he took it and when he got to Washington he handed it to the old family servant who hadn't seen him for sixty years, and then dropped dead, so they never knew whether he was the real one or only the impostor, and so just as the wedding was about to take place the uncle—he was a senator—said to the bishop, who was going to marry them: 'Please get off this line, I am using it!' And so it never took place, after all. Now, can you tell me what the name of the book is, Miss Patterson?"
"Why, I am afraid I do not recognize it. It sounds a little like Mrs. Humphry Ward and Ouida and Frances Hodgson Burnett, and someone else, all at once. Was it by any of them, Mrs. Smith?"
"Oh, no, I am sure it was not. Why, I am surprised—I thought you would know it now, without any hesitation!"
"I am sorry."
"Oh, very well, then. Good-by."
The last in a tone as acid and cold as lemon ice. It seemed to express Mrs. Smith's opinion of all librarians. Miss Patterson was much grieved, but the telephone bell rang again before she had time to reflect.
"Is this the library? Oh, yes. I wonder if you have a life of Mrs. Browning?"
"Yes—I think so. What would you like to know about her?"
"Well, there—I am certainly glad. This is Miss Crumpet, you know! Miss Hortense Crumpet. I have had such a time. Have you the book right there? I do wish you would—"
"If you will wait just a minute, I will send for the book—I haven't it here."