"Oh yes, I own one, I believe."
"And never read it! Bah, what good does it do you to have books if you don't read 'em? Now I'm going to find out about this 'H-a-b-a-k-k-u-k,' and then I shall know more than you do."
Mr. Ryan laughed a little, but withal seemed somewhat embarrassed. Tode left him and sped back to his dusting.
"Queer chap that," muttered Mr. Ryan. "I don't know what to make of him."
And a little sense of what might be termed shamefacedness stole over him at the thought that this ignorant boy prized more highly his three leaves of a Bible, picked out of the waste-basket, and possibly was going to know more about it than he, Edgar Ryan, had gleaned from his own handsomely bound copy, wherein his Christian mother had written years ago his own loved name. Mr. Ryan, the cultivated young lawyer, took down his handsome Bible from the shelf of unused books as soon as he had reached his office, dusted it carefully, and turned over the leaves to discover something about Habakkuk.
As for Tode, he literally poured over his three leaves. Very little of the language did he understand—the great and terrible figures were utterly beyond his knowledge; yet as he read them once, and again and again, something of the grandeur and sublimity stole into his heart, helped him without his knowledge, and now and then a word came home, and he caught a vague glimpse of its meaning. "Thou art of purer eyes than to behold evil." That was plain; that must mean the great All-seeing Eyes, for Tode knew enough of human nature to have much doubt as to whether any human eyes were pure. But then those unsleeping eyes did behold evil—saw. Oh, Tode could conceive better than many a Sabbath-school scholar can just how much evil there was to behold. How was that? Ah! Tode's brain didn't know, couldn't tell; but into his heart had come the knowledge that between all the evil men and women in this evil world, and those pure eyes of an angry God, there stood the blood-red cross of Christ.
There were many guests to be waited on; the tables were filling rapidly. Tode was springing about with eager steps, handling deftly coffee, oysters, wine, anything that was called for—bright, busy, brisk as usual. As he set a cup of steaming coffee beside Mr. Ryan's plate, that gentleman glanced up good-humoredly and addressed him.
"Well, Tode, how is Habakkuk?"
"First-rate, sir, only there's some queer things in it."
"I should think there was!" laughed Mr. Ryan, spilling his coffee in his mirth. "Rather beyond you, isn't it?"