Josephine Dodge Daskam

“ During the next few days, when her time was entirely taken up with the catalogue in the front of the library, and the assistant transacted all business among the shelves, she was perfectly convinced that somewhere between Sections A and J a little boy, with a brown book, was concealed, but found herself too busy to rout him out.
Even when a red-faced, liveried coachman presented her with a note, directed in a sprawling, childish hand to "Mr. Jimmy Reese, Esq.," she only coughed and said, severely: "There is no such official in the library." ”

“ The new librarian pressed her lips together with an air of highly creditable restraint.
"Mr. Littlejohn allowed a great many irregularities which have been stopped," she announced, "and as there is no reason why you should do what the other children cannot, you will have to go. So hurry up, for I am very busy this morning."
She did not speak unkindly, but there was an unmistakable decision in her tone, and the boy got up awkwardly, tucked his crutch under his arm, and laying the big book down with care, went out in silence, his heavy boot echoing unevenly on the hardwood floor. ”

“ For days he did not appear, and it was Thomas, the janitor, who went finally to look him up, troubled by the children's reports of his illness. He returned grave-faced.
"It's the fever, Miss Watkins, and they say there's little chance for him, the poor little feller! He was worn out with the heat. They don't know how he got it. He's out of his mind. To think of Jimmy like that!"
The librarian's heart sank, and her assistant put her head on her arms and cried. Thomas sat sadly on his little porch, his unlighted pipe in his mouth. The library seemed strangely empty. ”

“ I always look and look, and the more I look the more anxious I get. It always seems as if everything was going to be too long, or else we've read it. You see we read a good deal. I wonder—do you know where the little boy is?"
Miss Mather smiled triumphantly. "You'll have to ask Miss Watkins," she said.
"The new librarian, my dear? Oh, I hardly like to disturb her. They say she's very strict. My cousin told me she charged her nine cents for a book that was out too long. You ask her, my dear!"
"Miss Watkins," said the assistant, meekly, "there is a lady here would like to see Jimmy. ”

“ The child's well enough now, anyway. I'll go get it myself—I'm not afraid. The whole of us had the fever, and no such smelling sheets pinned up, and no fuss at all, at all. I'm as good as a paid nurse, any day, if you come to that. A book'll hurt no one."
Later he found himself perched beside the coachman, who was going to meet a train, the beloved book tight in his arms. He fingered it lovingly; he smelled the leaves like a little dog. For the first time in his life he took it to his home, and clasped it in his arms as he lay in bed. ”

“ It's like those things he'd tell me out of it—they all died; seemingly without any reason, the gods would go back on 'em, and they'd die. He's often read it out to me."
"It will be lovely to have that Children's-room memorial," said Miss Mather, softly, "with all the books and pictures and the little chairs. It was beautiful in Mrs. Vanderhoof, I think. It wasn't her fault. I wish—I wish we'd had a little chair in there for Jimmy."
The librarian got up abruptly and moved around among the magazines, a mist before her eyes. Only now did she realize how she had grown to love him. ”

“ She thrust lists of juveniles into their unwilling hands, led them cautiously into an inspection of Nature Lessons for Little Learners, displayed tempting rows of bound Nicholas—but to no purpose.
"Where's Jimmy?" they demanded, stubbornly.
"What on earth do they want of him?" she asked of her assistant one day. "That stupid Meadows child—is she going to ask his opinion of the Dotty Dimple Books?"
"Not at all," Miss Mather replied, tranquilly. "But he always gets her a Mary J. Holmes novel, and I stamp it and let it go. ”

“ He was even allowed to keep the novels desired by the Meadows child in the juvenile shelf, where he insisted they belonged.
"Only the girls in Number Seven want 'em," he explained, when his superior complained of his audacity in removing them from adult fiction.
And so the little girl who had reached that period of little girlhood when every well-regulated young person is compelled by some inward power to ask the librarian, tremblingly, if she has a book in the libr'y called "St. Elmo," was spared all embarrassment, for Jimmy handed it out to her almost before she asked. ”

“ Vanderhoof," said the librarian, in her most business-like manner, "and I will give you, for Master Clarence, the new Henty book. He will probably like that."
"I beg pardon, ma'am," persisted the coachman, "but Master Clarence says that there was a book that the little boy particularly recommended to him, and I was to be very special about it. He goes a good deal by the little fellow's judgment. I'll call in again when he's here, after my other errands."
Miss Watkins sighed, and gave way. "Will you see, Miss Mather, if Jimmy Reese is in the library?" ”

“ When I tell anyone to do anything, I expect them to do it, because—because they must," she concluded lamely, a little disconcerted by the placid stare of the brown eyes. "You see, if all the little boys came in here, there would be no room for us to work." ”

“ Since her advent life had changed greatly for the janitor.
"I see. Thomas, does that little lame boy come in this way?"
"Jimmy? Yes, ma'am. Most always he does. In fact, that's why I keep the door unlocked."
"Well, after this I prefer that you should keep it locked. There is no reason why he should have a private entrance to the library, that I can see; and anyway, it's not safe. Someone might——"
"Oh, Lord, Miss Watkins, don't you worry. Nobody ever came in here yet, and I've been here eight years. Jimmy's all right. He's careful and still's a mouse, and he won't do a mite of harm. ”

“ He——"
"Picked out the books—that child? Great Heavens!"
"Well, he's read a good deal, Jimmy has," the assistant contended. "It's all he does. He can't play like the other children, he's so lame. He seems real old, anyhow. And he's always been here. He helps giving out the books, and helps the children pick out. He was very convenient when Mr. Littlejohn didn't like to be waked up."
"Great Heavens!" the librarian cried again.
"I think you'll find he'll be missed, you being so new," the assistant persevered.
"I think I can manage to carry on the library. ”