The opening of the library had been vigorously advertised. Bert and Dot had wheeled the country roads over within a radius of three miles from town, posting bills of announcement. The ministers urged it upon their congregations as a civic duty to attend. At social gatherings the week before nothing else was talked of. And everybody was going to bring books.

“Such a lot of trash as we’ll get!” groaned Dorcas.

“I know it,” assented Polly, “but they will all take an interest, and that is what we are after now. Once properly established, we can buy good books, and these old ones will just stand idle or wear out or get lost or something.”

“I don’t think it’s very appropriate to serve refreshments,” objected Dorcas once more. “And Algernon doesn’t think it is a dignified way to do.”

“O, well,” put in Catherine, appeasingly. “Mrs. Graham says, you know, that we’ll ‘have to get people pretty well educated readin’ our 72 encyclopedias and dictionaries before they’ll think anything’s worth goin’ to that there ain’t somethin’ to eat at!’ And Mrs. Graham is going to take charge of all that part, anyhow, so I don’t feel like finding fault. There won’t be any expense, with everything contributed.”

“They might have given the money instead of ice-cream and cakes.”

“O, Dorcas, Dorcas, you would expect people to be all made over. Did you ever read Stevenson’s fable of the reformer who thought the first step in reforming the world was to abolish mankind? Let’s not worry about it. I know it’s going to be a success. Isn’t this room the cleanest spot you ever saw?” And Catherine threw back her arms with a gesture to rest her tired shoulders, and looked about her with affection and pride. Bare white walls, with one good engraving, loaned by Judge Arthur, for ornament; plain shelves with rows of neat books, their orderly labels smiling like sets of teeth; the reading-table in the exact center of the room, with three chairs in military array on each side of it, and a few contributed magazines in mathematical piles between two student lamps; and last, Algernon’s small charging desk, with its mysterious cards and rubber stamps under one of the bracket lamps, shining from the polishing Agnes had just given it.

“Isn’t it spick and span?” repeated Catherine, 73 sitting down with precision in the arm-chair, discovered in somebody’s attic.

“Ye-es,” answered Dot slowly, dropping upon one of the arms. “But for all its cleanness it’s about as bare and as inviting as the contagious ward of a hospital, or the dining-room of a state’s prison.”

“Don’t say discouraging things like that, Dot dear,” pleaded Agnes, taking the other arm and snuggling her head against Catherine’s cheek. “A library isn’t supposed to be a parlor, and that engraving is really valuable.”

“I’d rather have a chromo that comes with soap, myself,” said Bert. “Its cold steely look only adds to that hygienic and sanitary aspect Dot detected. It makes me homesick for sunflowers and red flannel.”

“I have an idea,” and Dorcas rose and departed with her usual abruptness.

As she went out of the door, Bess came in.

“O dear!” she said. “Are you all here? I hoped nobody would be.”

“Shall we withdraw?” asked Bert. “We were just commenting on the barrenness of this place, but your presence causes it to blossom as the rainbow. We bask in the refulgence.”

Bess laughed. “That’s really what I came for, to prettify it a little. It seemed such a pity not to have anything bright and attractive on the walls, 74 so I made this at odd minutes. Do you all like it? I was going to put it up and surprise you.”

She unrolled a big parcel she carried and the others, crowding around to see, looked upon a beautifully illuminated motto:

“God be thanked for books.”

“Bess, you are an inspired angel,” cried Polly, while Catherine gave her a squeeze which was meant to express pleasure and also compunction for more than one reflection that Bess was not doing her share for the library.

“And here comes another,” exclaimed Agnes, running to open the door for Dorcas, staggering under the weight of a great armful of golden glow.

“Dorcas, you must have taken every stalk you had!”

“Well, and whose business is it, I’d like to know?” asked Dorcas briskly and justly. Polly shrugged her shoulders, but helped Bertha to find receptacles for the bright flowers, continuing to exclaim over their beauty, in spite of Dorcas’ apparent indifference. It had not been Algernon alone who had been misunderstood at the beginning of the library campaign in Winsted. The flowers arranged effectively, and the motto given a place where it could be read from all parts of the room, the workers trudged off to their respective homes to make elaborate toilets before the “party” should begin.

Seven o’clock found the lamps lighted inside 75 the little building, and Japanese lanterns making the freshly-mown weed patch a festive place, with little tables set for the ice-cream and cake which were to be served from the shed, leaving the library proper, clean and crumbless. Bess and Winifred, with their attendant squires, were to act as Mrs. Graham’s lieutenants outside, and the other members of the club were variously on duty within. Dr. Helen assisted Algernon and the school superintendent in receiving–an unsectarian combination warranted to disturb no prejudice. Bertha, with a book and pen, was ready at the reading-table to receive and register gifts. Catherine sat at Algernon’s desk to issue cards, and take in the annual fee of fifty cents. The other girls and boys were “floating,” ready to entertain the guests, to explain the whole scheme, and see to it that every one was invited to the lawn for “light refreshments and ice-cream” as the Courier had announced.

The fathers and mothers of the Boat Club were early arrivals, looking with proud amused eyes upon their spotless sons and daughters in their disinterested public zeal. First of all came Mrs. Swinburne in a long black net gown elaborately spangled, her hair coquettishly arranged in a Janice Meredith curl, several years out of date, a slender ivory-sticked fan, somewhat broken, swaying from her belt by a long ribbon. She plainly felt that her entrance should excite attention 76 and was by no means disappointed. Dot and Polly took her in charge and stood by with grave courteous faces while she gave Bertha her contribution, wrapped up in tissue paper and white ribbon.

“It’s a copy of The Ring and The Book I got for Elsmere’s Christmas last year. I wanted so to read it. I am devoted to Byron. But Algernon gave me the Complete Works, so that I felt I could give this away to advantage. It is a little damaged. The dear child uses his books to build stables with, but I knew that the public would not mind.”

She arched her eyebrows in surprise when Catherine asked fifty cents for the card she made out for her. “As Algernon’s mother, really, Miss Catherine, I did not expect–” and Catherine, catching Algernon’s imploring glance from his position between the doctor and the superintendent, murmured an apology and gave the card.

Then Mrs. Swinburne sank delicately into the arm-chair, and rested her eyes upon the scene before her.

It was soon sufficiently animated. A whole family arrived at once, climbing out of a big farm wagon. Dot beckoned to Bert.

“It’s that man we talked to out on the Ridge Road.”

77“Is this your liberry?” asked a mighty voice from the doorway. “Where’s the young fellow that invited us to come in this evening? O, it’s you, is it? I didn’t recognize you with those clothes on. Men folks didn’t wear white pants in my day. Well, Mother, come along in. I guess they won’t nobody bite you.”

With this encouragement, a little washed-out looking woman slipped uncomfortably in, six children of various degrees of awkwardness stumbling after her, studiously avoiding the outstretched hands of the receiving committee. Dr. Helen stepped forward and took the woman’s hand. The wan face under the dusty black straw hat lighted with the smile that Catherine loved to see her mother call forth.

“Clary,” said the little woman proudly, “here’s the doctor. Let her see how fat and well you be. Not much like she was that winter!”

Clary’s father, meanwhile, was walking about the room with a tread that rattled the lamp-shades. He looked the books over with an air of wisdom, listened to Bert’s talk in silence, and presently drew up at the desk where Catherine sat waiting for customers.

“How much for your tickets?”

“Fifty cents.”

“Family rates?”

Catherine met the unforeseen question promptly.

“Where there are more than three in a family, the tickets are only thirty-five cents apiece.”

78“So. Well, give me one,” and he drew a handful of small change from his pocket. “Holcomb’s the name. Chester G. Holcomb.”

Catherine inscribed the name in her pretty even hand upon a blue card, numbered it 2, and handed it to her patron. He laid down thirty-five cents and turned away.

“O,” said Catherine, flushing softly. “You didn’t understand. It is only when you get three cards that they are cheap like that.”

Chester Holcomb, known as the biggest miser in the county, grunted.

“You said if they was more than three in the family, and they’s six children besides ma and me. I knowed there was some skin game about this thing, somewheres. Here’s your ticket and you give me back my money.”

Catherine, almost as near tears as she had ever been in her singularly well-controlled existence, obeyed him.

“Good evening, Chester.” Dr. Harlow had been standing near, and now decided to take a hand. “Let me introduce my daughter. Catherine, this is Mr. Holcomb, of whom you’ve heard us speak.”

“The father of the dear twin babies?” asked Catherine, with a grateful throb for her father’s help.

“That’s them yonder,” answered Chester Holcomb, swelling proudly. “Mate, bring the twins 79 here, so’t the doctor’s gal can see ’em. Weighed five pounds when they was born, and look at ’em now! Best fatted live stock on the farm, I say, Doctor.” And Mr. Holcomb’s great laugh at his own witticism filled the room. Catherine, meanwhile, with the sincerity of a girl who really loves all babies, admired the plump twins to such a degree that their father felt himself melting with benevolence.

“Mate,” he said suddenly, “think you’d like to read any of these here books? Doc, make you acquainted with my daughter Sadie. Graduated from the district school this spring and goin’ to town High School this fall. Guess the’ ain’t any of the readin’-matter here that’s beyond Sadie! Here, Miss, give us three of them tickets,–that one I had and two more. Mrs. Chester Holcomb and Miss Sadie Ditto. There! Keep the change,” and gathering up the three cards, he threw a silver dollar heavily upon the table and turned away. Catherine and her father looked at each other and laughed outright.

“No man has ever got the best of Chester in a bargain,” said Dr. Harlow, “and I judge no woman ever will! Allow me to make up the deficit. It has been worth more than that as entertainment!”

By this time the room was full. It was a motley crowd, as all classes of Winsted were represented. The would-be Smart Set in rather elaborate hats 80 and gowns, mingled with the quieter Three R’s, and their own maid servants and the “gentlemen friends” of the latter. All the standbys, who are always on hand at church doings and the County Fair, were out in force. There was the oldest inhabitant, bestowing his presence with the “nunc dimittis” air which had characterized him since old age had given him the distinction vainly sought in other fields. There was old Mis’ Tuttle in her best black and orange bonnet, and Emeline Winslow with her wig over one ear and a bouquet of artificial flowers under glass as her contribution. With her came Grandma Hopkins, whose name was the only nimble thing about her;–ponderous and elephantine, she had once, in calling upon a fragile little old lady, stumbled in the doorway and fallen upon her hostess, whose brittle bones had snapped under the strain. Polly and Dorcas constituted themselves a committee to look out for the elderly ones, taking great pains to keep Grandma Hopkins in open spaces where a fall would do little damage. There was a very bony woman with a smile which was surprising, it was so soft and radiant. She brought a fat story of the Bible for the children, and offered Algernon flowers from her garden for all summer. “Flowers are good for the soul and the mind as well as books,” she explained, “and if so be some one comes in and can’t find the book they want, ’twon’t hurt ’em to see a posy.”

81There was the Sloan family, decked out in the leavings of a milliner’s shop and bringing as offering a worn copy of one of Mary J. Holmes’ novels. There was a good-hearted lady, so disastrously given to expressing enthusiasm by embracing anyone within her reach that the heroes and heroines of the evening fought shy of her, and Tom made her well-known tendency an excuse for withdrawing altogether and going out to the fence behind the building where he could overlook the festive scene and smoke a cigar surreptitiously. Not least “among those present” was the ubiquitous reporter for the Courier, biting his pencil and using abbreviations in his notes with such freedom that the list of gifts, when finally published, contained such startling entries as: Eliza and her Germ Garden, and The Victorious Anthropology.

“I felt as though I were in a dream half the time,” sighed Polly, when the crowd had dwindled to “the immediate mourners” as Max put it, and these were sitting wearily at the messy little tables, dipping idle spoons into the melted cream that had been with difficulty saved for them. “I kept on smiling and explaining and telling people to go to Catherine for cards and to Bertha to leave their gifts, and half the time I didn’t know what I was saying or who was talking to me. Bert came up once and asked me to tell him which door he came in at, and I tried to find out for him, before I 82 tumbled–before I saw the point, I mean. I never was so exhausted in all my life.”

“Poor Algernon,” said Tom. “You’re just beginning your work. Every one of those hundred and sixty-seven cards will be in to-morrow to draw out a book. You ought to keep open for a week every day.”

“Three times a week, with evenings, will be enough,” replied A. Swinburne, librarian. “There’s a big job on those books that came in to-night. How many were there finally, Bertha?”

“Ninety-six. About twenty are worth putting labels on,” answered Bertha cheerfully. “I’m a little inclined to think that that part of our plan was a mistake.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Dot. “There was one old duck who brought a German primer, and he strutted around as though he owned the place. I’m sure he’ll use it constantly.”

“He seemed to think he ought to have a card free, because he gave it,” put in Catherine. “I remember him! He wasn’t the only one, though. They all–or a lot of them–seemed to think they ought to be able to draw any number of books on one card, and they don’t like the idea of fines at all. I don’t envy you, Algernon!”

“We ought to have called ourselves the Looking For Trouble Club,” groaned Archie. “We haven’t had a decent Boat Club picnic since we got into 83 this mess. And look at all this place to clean up to-morrow! I’m about dead with work, already. I don’t know about the rest of you.”

The rest had strength enough for a chorus of hoots and jeers at “His Laziness,” who had adorned the scene of their labor for a few minutes now and then, but for the most part had stayed strictly away.

“I’ve saved your lives, anyway,” declared Archie cheerfully, when their derision had spent itself. “And I’m going to again. I hired a lovely scrub-lady to come to-morrow and make this spot look shipshape–”

“O, Archie!” cried the girls, “you beautiful boy!”

“Don’t interrupt,” said the beautiful boy sternly. “I am going to vindicate myself. Polly Osgood, didn’t that tennis game Friday morning save you from collapse? How about that little canoe jaunt on the quiet yesterday, Catherine? Bess needed a drive Thursday, and Winifred did more good to the public by singing to me all that hot evening than the rest of you did slaving away over some gooey job or other. Dorcas let me reward her Sunday-school kids by a hay-rack ride, and she went along to take care of us. Agnes and Bertha got interrupted on their way down here one morning, and let themselves be persuaded to take a country walk instead, to show me birds’ nests for a course I’m not ever going to take next year. And as for 84 Dot,–O, Dot was shamelessly ready to go off any old time with any old body. But you all would have been nervous wrecks by now without me. And you call me names, like an ungrateful populace!”

It was a mirth-provoking series of revelations. “Archie has shown himself a most artistic sly-boots,” said Catherine. “I never had more delicious conscience pangs than I did on that canoe-ride.”

“So it was with me,” declared Polly. “And I never dared say anything sarcastic about the other girls not turning up every time, because I felt so guilty myself.”

“So did I!” cried Bertha and Agnes together.

“Well, so didn’t I!” exclaimed Dot. “I was perfectly free to say all the time that I didn’t intend to spend my whole summer or even ten days of it working harder than I do winters. I move that Archie be given a vote of thanks for introducing the Rest Cure into the Boat Club, and also a vote of admiration for the beauty of his dissimulation.”

“I second the motion,” said Archie himself, “and amend it to include going home. Want any help in locking up, Al?”

“No, thanks,” said Algernon, hearing for the first time a nickname that any fellow might have had applied to himself. “Good night, all of you. I’ll take good care of things, you can count on that.”

As the rest drifted in pairs and threes toward 85 their homes, a well-content young man set the reading-chairs in their places, put out the low-burning lamps, turned the key in the lock, and walked briskly away, happier than he had ever been.

Even so early, Catherine’s inspiration had shown itself a true one.