"I think the Romance and Poetry department," suggested the stranger.
"This way," said Ridgwell; "I will show you."
The stranger ran his finger over the well-stocked orderly shelves, then he paused at four volumes side by side about the middle of the second shelf.
"Of course you both read?" inquired the stranger.
"Not those sort of books," explained Ridgwell. "We haven't quite got up to those sort of books yet."
"Anyway you can read the author's name upon the back of each of them."
The children nodded.
"That's me," confessed the stranger. "I have the misfortune to write books that you don't read."
"Father does," Ridgwell hastened to explain; "I've often heard him talk about you. Why, you're quite famous, aren't you?"
"I hope not," said the Writer.