The Wide Awake Girls in Winsted Part 25

"Nowhere is there the _Laetus Sorte Mea_ book," she said sadly.

"That's so!" exclaimed Catherine, regretfully. "We'll put it on the suggestion list at once. Do you see any other lack, any of you?"

They all laughed, looking about at the few hundred volumes on the shelves, but Frieda said earnestly:

"There are many Germans here, Dr. Harlow told me. And the older ones cannot read English. Can they have no share in the library?"

"That's right," said Alice. "They are taxpayers and I should think you ought to get a few German books every year, Catherine. It's done in other places."

Algernon was at liberty for a moment, and came over to the group.

"Are we talking too much?" asked Catherine.

"No, no. There's no one at the reading-table. What are you discussing?"

"Frieda thinks there should be German books here for the people in town who can't read English."

"There ought," said Algernon gravely. "But I don't know what to order. I don't want to start out with Goethe and Schiller. I asked the German minister, and he gave a list of religious books, but that isn't what we want, either."

Frieda's eyes shone. "Please let me make you a list," she said eagerly.

"And I have two or three books in my trunk which I would gladly give, O, gladly."

Algernon's pleasure was as great as her own.

"That would be simply bully! We can order one each time we send for new books, and it won't be long before we have a good supply. I say, Catherine, would you mind taking the desk for a few minutes? There come the program committee of the Study Club, and I ought to be free to talk with them."

Catherine consented willingly, always liking to manipulate the simple machinery of the loan desk. Frieda sat down at once with a pencil and paper to make out her list, and Alice and Hannah helped themselves to magazines and waited.

Catherine looked about her at the little room and her heart swelled with pride and pleasure. So much had come of her thought of making Algernon useful. He was already quite a different person, with a dignity that became him well. The pile of cards in the charging tray before her showed that the library was being used by a goodly number of borrowers.

The program committee was evidence that part, at least, of its use, was for more than mere recreation.

"O, I am so glad, so glad!" sang Catherine's heart. "There are so many things to be glad about. And see my dear, dear Wide-Awakes. I think they really are the most beautiful girls I ever beheld!"

A stranger might have thought that rather an extravagant speech, for Catherine herself was the only one of the four who could be called beautiful. But Frieda's face was unusual and interesting, Alice's sweet, though plain, and Hannah's the sort that always called for a second glance and a smile of pleasure.

"Have you anything in the library on the Past, the Present and the Future?" asked a voice, and Catherine stopped her musing.

"The what?" she asked, not believing her ears. She had been thinking of the past, the present and the future as she watched her three friends'

faces, but that was quite a different matter.

"I have to write a paper on that subject," said a complacent young woman, rather showily dressed, "and I thought I'd maybe better read up on it a little."

"I should think it would be wise," murmured Catherine. "But I hardly know--the Past, the Present, and the Future of what?"

"Why, not of anything. Just the Past, the Present and the Future," said the other, with a shade of impatience in her tone. "Maybe I'd better wait till the real librarian is at liberty. He always knows what to give out."

"Perhaps that would be best," faltered Catherine. "It is such a very large subject, you know."

"Yes, that's why I chose it. I like a large subject. There is so much more to say on it. I wrote on 'Woman' last year, but it wasn't broad enough!"

A little girl, who came in wanting a fairy story, gave Catherine a chance to turn away and hide her amus.e.m.e.nt. The child wanted to know what the story was about, and before Catherine realized what she was doing, she had her arm about the little girl's waist, and, kneeling beside the low table, was showing her the pictures in a beautiful ill.u.s.trated _Tanglewood Tales_, telling the story of Persephone as that sweet sad tale has seldom been told.

Some one came in and wanted a book, but Catherine did not know it.

Alice, who had had some library experience at college, stepped quietly to the desk and served the customer. Hannah dropped her magazine and stole nearer the alcove, listening to the story. Frieda looked up from her writing, as Catherine's voice, full of wistfulness, came to her ear:

"And Mother Ceres wandered and wandered over the face of the earth, but there was not any Persephone anywhere. And the gra.s.s forgot to grow, and the flowers forgot to blossom, and the wheat withered and died, for Mother Ceres' heart was broken. How could she care for other things, when Persephone was gone?"

The members of the program committee, one by one, paused in their busy searching through Poole's Index, and waited while the sweet voice went on:

"And poor little Persephone was lonely down in the dark king's palace underground. She pined and pined, and would not eat or be comforted. And the poor King was sad, too. He wanted a little girl so badly, you know, and now that he had found one, he could not make her happy. It is a terrible thing not to be able to make people happy!"

The little girl cuddling close to Catherine, her eyes turning only from the pictured page to Catherine's face, sighed softly.

Algernon, watching and listening to the story of the tempting pomegranate, suddenly drew a deep breath, and his face lighted up as it always did when a new idea came to him.

"And then Quicksilver hurried her away, past the fierce dog with the three terrible heads, and up to the world again. Such a dry parched world! Not any green gra.s.s, not a single, flower. Not a single corn-stalk or spear of wheat. And poor old Mother Ceres sitting at home on her door-step, weary and sad and hopeless, wis.h.i.+ng for her own little girl. And what do you think? As Persephone and Quicksilver walked along, pretty fast, you may be sure, for you can think how eager the little girl was to see her dear mother again, all along the sides of the path where they walked, the gra.s.s turned green and the flowers began to blossom and nod, and the corn-stalks lifted up their heads and waved new ta.s.sels, and the wheat sprang up, and the trees put out fresh leaves, and the birds sang, and the little dried-up brooks began to run and ripple over stones. And Mother Ceres, sitting and looking out over the dry brown world, suddenly saw a green glow over everything and she stood up, very angry, and said: 'Does the earth disobey me? I said that if the earth should ever grow green again, it should be along the path by which my daughter should come back to my arms.'

"And then a sweet child voice said: 'Open your arms, dear Mother, for I have come back to you, and all the earth is green and blossoming!'"

The little girl threw her arms around Catherine's neck and kissed her.

"O, I'm so glad she came back," she cried. "Tell me about it again."

Catherine smiled but her eyes were dreamy still. Algernon made his way over to her.

"You found my vocation for me," he said eagerly, "and now I've found yours. We'll have a story-hour in this library hereafter,--with bars up to keep the grown-ups out! You're better than the professional I heard at Madison."

Catherine looked bewildered, but Alice took her hand and squeezed it.

"I knew you could. I heard you once 'telling' to Jonathan Edwards out under the hemlocks when you thought no one else was listening. It's a glorious gift, dear, and I feel sure you'll do wonders with it some day.

See! Hannah and Frieda are almost crying! Come on, girls. She doesn't even know what she has done. We'll have to take her home and have her mother explain it!"

Catherine revived from her dazed condition sufficiently to protest against being led out of the door, and the four went gayly up the hill together; but Catherine's mind was intent on the suggestion which Algernon had made. "Professional? Work? A vocation? Anything so simple and delightful, and _natural_ as telling stories? Could _I_ do something that would make lots of people happier and better, as Aunt Clara's pictures do, and Mother's work and Father's?" The bliss of the idea was quite too much for her, and she broke away from the others, exclaiming:

"I'll race you all to the porch steps. One, two, three, scramble!"

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DOCTOR'S ORDERS

Dr. Helen, dismissing her last patient at the office door, glanced into the waiting-room. To her surprise, she saw Alice sitting there with a magazine in her hand.

"Why, my dear, what is wrong? Are you ill? Come in here." Alice rose and followed her into the little white room.

"Nothing is wrong. I wanted to see you alone for a few minutes, and I thought this was the best way to do it. Are you quite free now?"