"It is a strong story for your side, Mr. Midgin, undoubtedly."
"Ain't it! La! bless you, there's nothin' you kin be sartain of in this world. I don't believe in no Romulus and his wolf. Half o' all these books, now, I have no doubt, tells lies; and the other half, you don' know which 'tis."
"I cannot throw them away however, just yet; and so, Mr. Midgin, I want some shelves to keep them off the floor."
"I should say you jest did! Where'll you put 'em?"
"The shelves? All along that side of the room, I think. And about six feet high."
"That'll hold 'em," said Mr. Midgin, as he applied his measuring rule.
"Jest shelves? or do you want a bookcase fixed up all reg'lar?"
"Just shelves. That is the prettiest bookcase, to my thinking."
"That's as folks looks at it," said Mr. Midgin, who apparently was of a different opinion. "What'll they be? Mahogany, or walnut, or cherry, or maple, or pine? You kin stain 'em any colour. One thing's handsome, and another thing's cheap; and I don' know yet whether you want 'em cheap or handsome."
"Want 'em both, Mr. Midgin," said Lois.
"H'm!— Well—maybe there's folks that knows how to combine both advantages—but I'm afeard I ain't one of 'em. Nothin' that's cheap's handsome, to my way o' thinkin'. You don't make much count o' cheap things here anyhow," said he, surveying the room. And then he began his measurements, going round the sides of the apartment to apply his rule to all the plain spaces; and Mrs. Barclay noticed how tenderly he handled the books which he had to move out of his way. Now and then he stopped to open one, and stood a minute or two peering into it. All this while his hat was on.