"The Liberry"
"THE LIBERRY"
I
I first met Mr. Baxter at the fourpenny box outside Mr. Timpenny's second-hand bookshop in High Street, and was attracted at once by the loving care with which he handled its contents. Dirty and dog's-eared as most of them were, he never snatched one up or threw it down, after the common fashion of patrons of inexpensive literature, but would gently extract a more than usually disreputable volume from its heap, blow the dust off, straighten the warped cover, and smooth out the wrinkled pages before dipping into the subject-matter. In fact, the last operation struck me as interesting him least of all.
Becoming aware of my presence, he moved aside with a courtly little bow. He was a dusty old gentleman, in a very shabby frock-coat. He looked as if he lived in the fourpenny box himself.
"Am I preventing you from selecting a volume, sir?" he inquired.
I hastened to reassure him. I had no special designs on the fourpenny box, or indeed on any. I was merely idling.
"I am waiting for the druggist to make up a prescription," I said.
"Then you don't do your own dispensing, sir?"