“If you were going to sell them all together, so as not to break it up, it would be different,” said Miss Bethia.
“But I could not do that, even if I wished. Mr Grantly only wants a small number of them, a list of which he left when he was here.”
“The best-looking ones on the outside, I suppose. He could tell something about them, it’s likely, by looking at the names on the title-page,” said Miss Bethia, scornfully.
“But, Miss Bethia, why should you think he would not care for the books for themselves, and read them, too?” asked Violet, smiling. “Mr Grantly is a great scholar, they say.”
“Oh, well, child, I dare say! There are books enough. He needn’t want your pa’s. But, Mrs Inglis,” said Miss Bethia, impressively, “I wonder you haven’t thought of keeping them for David. It won’t be a great while before he’ll want just such a library. They won’t eat anything.”
“It will be a long time, I am afraid,” said David’s mother. “And I am not sure that it would not be best to dispose of them,—some of them, at least,—for we are very poor, and I scarcely know whether we shall have a place to put them. They may have to be packed up in boxes, and of that I cannot bear to think.”
“No. It ain’t pleasant,” said Miss Bethia, meditatively. “It ain’t pleasant to think about.” Then rising, she added, speaking rapidly and eagerly, “Sell them to me, Mrs Inglis. I’ll take good care of them, and keep them together.”
Mrs Inglis looked at her in astonishment. The children laughed, and David said:
“Do you want them to read, Miss Bethia? Or is it only for the outside, or the names on the first page, like Mr Grantly?”
“Never you mind. I want to keep them together; and I expect I shall read some in them. Mrs Inglis, I’ll give you five hundred dollars down for that book-case, just as it stands. I know it’s worth more than that, a great deal; but the chances are not in favour of your getting more here. Come, what do you say?”