"Very likely. I said I would call some afternoon."

"I'm sure he will see you, then. Come this way, please, into the library."

Benny followed without a word, and soon found himself surrounded on every side with books.

"Oh, my!" he said, "I think I should enjoy spending a fortnight here. I wonder how long it would take me to read all these books, and how much longer to understand them? Ay, that's the rub—understanding and remembering what one does read."

Then he ran his eye along shelf after shelf, reading only the titles.

"I expect I should feel like a boy in a sweet-shop, not knowing which bottle to start with. Ah, Wordsworth!" as his eye caught the name. "I've heard of him. I wonder what the inside is like?"

He must have found something very interesting, for when Mr. Munroe came into the room half an hour later, Benny did not notice his entrance. Mr. Munroe watched him with an amused smile on his face for about five minutes, then said,

"I'm glad you've found something to take your fancy, Mr. Bates."

Benny started, and blushed to the roots of his hair. In the first place he thought he was alone, and in the second place it was the first time that he had ever been addressed as "mister."

"I beg pardon," he stammered out at length. "I did not know you were in the room."

"Don't mention it. I'm glad to see that you are fond of books; and I'm glad to see you here."

Benny blushed again, but did not reply.

"I was afraid you were not coming," went on Mr. Munroe; "but how is your arm?"

"Getting on nicely, thank you; the doctor says it will soon be as right as ever."

"I'm glad to hear it. It's a mercy we were not every one of us killed; but I'm having a new bridge built. I've been going to have it done for the last ten years, but kept putting it off; however, they are going to start with the job next week."

"I'm very glad to hear it," said Benny. "It's not safe as it is at present."

"No, no; you're quite right there."

Then there was an awkward pause, and Benny began to feel uncomfortable. Mr. Munroe was the first to speak.

"I wanted to see you here," he said, "to have a little conversation with you about—about—yourself," bringing out the last word with a jerk.

Benny did not know what reply to make to this, so he said nothing.

"I understand you have not always lived in the country?" questioned Mr. Munroe.

"No, sir; I lived in Liverpool till I was twelve or thirteen years of age."

"And how do you like farming?"

"Very well, I think; but, really, I've scarcely thought about it."

"You are not uncomfortable, then?"