If Miss Bethia had proposed to buy the church, or the grave-yard, or the village common, or all of them together, it would not have surprised her listeners more.
“Miss Bethia,” said Mrs Inglis, gently, “I thank you. You are thinking of the good the money would do to my children.”
“No, Mrs Inglis, I ain’t—not that alone. And that wasn’t my first thought either. I want the books for a reason I have.”
“But what could you do with them, Miss Bethia?” asked Violet.
“Do with them? I could have the book-case put up in my square room, or I could send them to the new theological school I’ve heard tell they’re starting, if I wanted to. There’s a good many things I could do with them, I guess, if it comes to that.”
“But, Aunt Bethia, five hundred dollars is a large sum,” said David.
“It ain’t all they’re worth. If your ma thinks so, she can take less,” said Miss Bethia, prudently. “O, I’ve got it—if that’s what you mean—and enough more where that came from! Some, at any rate.”
David looked at her, smiling and puzzled.
“I’ve got it—and I want the books,” said Miss Bethia. “What do you say, Mrs Inglis?”
“Miss Bethia, I cannot thank you enough for your kind thoughts toward me and my children. But it would not be right to take your money, even if I could bear to part with my husband’s books. It would be a gift from you to us.”