OF THE BOOKS
in its place and went on about her work, the incident dismissed.
The next afternoon as she was sorting out from the department labelled, "Poetry, Miscellaneous Matter, etc.," such books as Mr. Littlejohn had found himself unable or unwilling to classify further, shaking down much dust on the further side of the shelves in the process, she was startled by a faint sneeze. Her assistant was compiling a list of fines at the desk, and this sneeze came from her very elbow, it seemed, so she hastily dismounted from her little ladder and peered around the rack. There sat the little boy of yesterday, the same brown book spread across his knees. She looked severe,
"Is this Jimmy Reese?" she inquired stiffly.
"Yes'm," he answered, with a polite smile. He had an air of absolute unconsciousness of any offence.
"Well, don't you remember what I told you yesterday, Jimmy? This is not the reading-room. Why don't you go there?"
"I like it better here."
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