The ink on the margin of the volume was fading, and Franklin strained his eyes to read the comments. Suddenly he turned and came into the store and sat down.
"Father Humphrey, bring me another volume."
Father Humphrey lighted the candle again and went into the same dark and tomblike recess, and brought out two more volumes, striking them against the corners of shelves to remove from them the dust and mold.
He noticed that his patron seemed overcome. Franklin was not an emotional man, but his lip quivered.
"You think that the book is interesting?"
He lifted his face and seemed lost in thought.
"Ecton—Ecton—Ecton," he said. "Uncle Tom lived there—Uncle Tom, who started the subscription for the chime of bells."
He had found the word "Ecton" in the pamphlets, and he again began to turn the leaves.
"Squire Isted," he said, "Squire Isted." He had found the name of Squire Isted on one of the leaves. He had heard the name in his youth.
"The World's End," he said. He stood up and turned round and round.