CHAPTER VIII.
AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
"UNCLE, could you lend me a ninepence? I'll return it as soon as I get my pocket-money," said Rose, coming into the library in a great hurry that evening.
"I think I could, and I won't charge any interest for it, so you need not be in any hurry to repay me. Come back here and help me settle these books if you have nothing pleasanter to do," answered Dr. Alec, handing out the money with that readiness which is so delightful when we ask small loans.
"I'll come in a minute; I've been longing to fix my books, but didn't dare to touch them, because you always shake your head when I read."
"I shall shake my head when you write, if you don't do it better than you did in making out this catalogue."
"I know it's bad, but I was in a hurry when I did it, and I am in one now." And away went Rose, glad to escape a lecture.
But she got it when she came back, for Uncle Alec was still knitting his brows over the list of books, and sternly demanded, pointing to a tipsy-looking title staggering down the page,—
"Is that meant for 'Pulverized Bones,' ma'am?"
"No, sir; it's 'Paradise Lost.'"