“I’ve got this old Bible,” said the young man, producing a thick, heavy volume with brass clasps. “You see it’s got rather fine pictures. I think you’d better sit on this,” he added, producing a high stool; “you’ll be able to see better.”
“Oh, that’s very nice,” said Jeremy, fascinated by Moses twisting a serpent around his very muscular arm as though it were a piece of string. “How much is this?”
“Eight pounds and ten,” said the young man, as though he’d said a halfpenny.
“I think I’d better tell you at once,” said Jeremy, leaning his elbows confidentially on the counter, “that I’ve only got five shillings and threepence halfpenny.”
The young man scratched his head. “I doubt if we’ve got any book,” he began; then suddenly, “Perhaps this will be the very thing—if you like pictures.”
He burrowed deep down in the back somewhere, and then produced two or three long, flat-looking books, dusty and a faded yellow. He wiped them with a cloth and presented them to Jeremy. At the first sight of them he knew that they were what he wanted. He read the titles: one was “Robinson Crusoe,” another “The Swiss Family Robinson,” the third “Masterman Ready.” He looked at “Crusoe,” and gave a delighted squeal of ecstasy as he turned over the pages. The print was funny and blacker than he had ever seen print before; the pictures were coloured, and richly coloured, the reds and greens and purples sinking deep into the page. Oh! it was a lovely book! a perfect book! the very, very thing for Mary.
“How much is it?” he asked, trembling before the answer.
“Exactly five shillings and threepence halfpenny,” said the young man gravely.
“That is strange,” said Jeremy, almost crowing with delight and keeping his hand on the book unless it should suddenly melt away. “That’s just what I’ve got. Isn’t that lucky?”
“Very fortunate indeed,” said the young man. “Shall I wrap it up for you?”