“How do you know? Now don’t say you get it out of the newspapers, for I never see these things, and I look for nothing else.”
“No, I found that in a book.”
“What book?”
It turned out to be a two-year-old volume upon Arctic Exploration. On the fly-leaf Bella’s name and the date, 1896. A whole year before Cheviot went to the Klondike, or Mr. Mar to Alaska. The year that—
The light that had glimmered broke in a flood.
“Let us read it together, Bella,” said Hildegarde softly.
“No, there’s a newer one I’ve just sent for. We’ll read that if you like.”
They finished it at the Waynes’ country place. “I wish,” said Hildegarde, “we had another book about—”
“There are plenty more.” Bella unlocked a little chest. It was full of nothing but books, and the books were about nothing but arctic life and exploration. For nearly two years, Bella had been buying and reading everything she could hear of published on the subject in America or Europe.
Hildegarde hung above the store. “We must go through them all together. It is the most fascinating reading in the world.”