[MUTE] fell, a helpless heap, into the cor

[Hosey M. <ca...@to...>]

 and Master Gridley had worked up among the quartos. He had got hold of Calmet's Dictionary, and

was caught by the article Solomon, so that he forgot his occupation

again. All at once it struck him that everything was very silent,--the 'p-'p-'p!
of clapping the books had ceased, and the light rustle of Susan's
dress was no longer heard. He looked up and saw her standing perfectly still, with a book in one hand and her duster in the other. She was lost in thought, and

by the shadow on her face and the glistening of her blue eyes he knew it was her hidden sorrow that had just come back to her. Master Gridley shut up his book, leaving
Solomon to his fate, like the worthy Benedictine he was reading, without discussing the question whether he was
saved or not. "Susan Posey, child, what is your trouble?" Poor Susan was in the state of unstable equilibrium which the least touch upsets, and fell to crying. It took her some time to get down the waves of emotion so that
speech would
live upon them. At last it ventured out,--showing at intervals, like the boat rising on the billow, sinking into the hollow, and climbing again into notice. "O Mr. Grid--ley--I

can't--I can't--tell you or--any--body--what's the mat--mat--matter.--My heart will br--br--break." "No, no, no, child," said Mr. Gridley,
sympathetically stirred a little himself by the sight of Susan in tears

and sobbing and catching her breath, "that mustn't be, Susan Posey. Come off the steps, Susan Posey, and stop dusting the books,--I can finish them,--and tell me all about your troubles. I will try to help you out o