The Haunted Bookshop

you that I intend to take my advertising out of the hands of the Grey-Matter Agency.” Aubrey’s heart sank. He had feared a catastrophe of this kind from the first. Naturally a hardheaded business man would not care to entrust such vast interests to a firm whose young men went careering about like secret service agents, hunting for spies, eavesdropping in alleys, and accusing people of pro-germanism. Business, Aubrey said to himself, is built upon Confidence, and what confidence could Mr. Chapman have in such vagabond and romantic doings? Still, he felt that he had done nothing to be ashamed of.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “We have tried to give you service. I assure you that I’ve spent by far the larger part of my time at the office in working up plans for your campaigns.”

He could not bear to look at Titania, ashamed that she should be the witness of his humiliation.

“That’s exactly it,” said Mr. Chapman. “I don’t want just the larger part of your time. I want all of it. I want you to accept the position of assistant advertising manager of the Daintybits Corporation.”

They all cheered, and for the third time that evening Aubrey felt more overwhelmed than any good advertising man is accustomed to feel. He tried to express his delight, and then added:

“I think it’s my turn to propose a toast. I give you the health of Mr. and Mrs. Mifflin, and their Haunted Bookshop, the place where I first⁠—I first⁠—”

His courage failed him, and he concluded, “First learned the meaning of literature.”

“Suppose we adjourn to the den,” said Helen. “We have so many delightful things to talk over, and I know Roger wants to tell you all about the improvements he is planning for the shop.”

Aubrey lingered to be the last, and it is to be conjectured that Titania did not drop her handkerchief merely by accident. The others had already crossed the hall into the sitting room.

Their eyes met, and Aubrey could feel himself drowned in her steady, honest gaze. He was tortured by the bliss of being so near her, and alone. The rest of the world seemed to shred away and leave them standing in that little island of light where the tablecloth gleamed under the lamp.

In his hand he clutched the precious book. Out of all the thousand things he thought, there was only one he dared to say.

“Will you write my name in it?”

“I’d love to,” she said, a little shakily, for she, too, was strangely alarmed at certain throbbings.

He gave her his pen, and she sat down at the table. She wrote quickly

For Aubrey Gilbert
From Titania Chapman
With much gr

She paused.

“Oh,” she said quickly. “Do I have to finish it now?”

She looked up at him, with the lamplight shining on her vivid face. Aubrey felt oddly stupefied, and was thinking only of the little golden sparkle of her eyelashes. This time her eyes were the first to turn away.

“You see,” she said with a funny little quaver, “I might want to change the wording.” And she ran from the room.

As she entered the den, her father was speaking. “You know,” he said, “I’m rather glad she wants to stay in the book business.” Roger looked up at her.

“Well,” he said, “I believe it agrees with her! You know, the beauty of living in a place like this is that you get so absorbed in the books you don’t have any temptation to worry about anything else. The people in books become more real to you than anyone in actual life.”

Titania, sitting on the arm of Mrs. Mifflin’s chair, took Helen’s hand, unobserved by the others. They smiled at each other slyly.

Endnotes

1. The latter half of this chapter may be omitted by all readers who are not booksellers. ↩

2. Note While Proofreading: Surely this phrase was unconsciously lifted from R. L. S. But where does the original occur?

   —⁠C. D. M.

   ↩

Colophon

The Haunted Bookshop
was published in 1919 by
Christopher Morley.

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