"What, that big giant servant? He might break it on the way back, he's so strong. He doesn't realize how much muscle he has."
"No, that's so. Well, while we're waiting for him, come on in the house, and I'll show you some new books I got."
The two lads were soon in the Swift homestead, a pleasant and large old-fashioned residence, in the suburbs of Shopton. Tom brought out the books, and he and his chum poured over them.
"Mr. Damon gave me that one on electricity," explained the young inventor, handing Ned a bulky volume.
"'Bless my bookmark!' as Mr. Damon himself would say if he were here," exclaimed Ned with a laugh. "That's a dandy. But Mr. Damon didn't give you this one," and Ned picked up a dainty volume of verse. "'To Tom Swift, with the best wishes of Mary'" but that was as far as he read, for Tom grabbed the book away, and closed the cover over the flyleaf, which bore some writing in a girl's hand. I think my old readers can guess whose hand it was.
"Wow! Tom Swift reading poetry!" laughed Ned.
"Oh, cut it out," begged his chum. "I didn't know that was among the books. I got it last
