The Columbia evening Missourian., 1922-08-14

mos, maternal in the way she dusiet
the machine or ran her hand along the
books. 81
The library had acquired another ad
diiion and was now a magnificent in
s;itution with a marble floor in the front
hall and frescoes on the reading room
walls. Magni6cent-and sad in its pic.
lures Of futile hope and defeated won.
anhood.
You who pafronize the public library
know it as a place where the book you
want is always out. For. its lesser attri.
buies there are the stecl-stscked arrays
Of romance and adventure, in one vol
ume. net: little Nietzsche that YOU re
going to get around TO read some day :;
and the modern verse-probings that
vaguely bewilder you. And, Of course,
! the shirt-waisted automatons who stamp
your books and collect your fines. If
you could step behind the scenes. be-
{ hind the barricades. of stacks, you might
find them surprisingly like you; not
quite so unusual, Of course. but distinct
ly human. Rather plump. most Of them;
curiously enough upsetting the tradition
Of Librarians as thin-lipped and wiiher-
ed. Plump, with graying hair and a
fondness for pink. Cliques and resent
ments and humor. just as in your own
life. But the underlying motif a poig-
nancy stark as that Of winter trees
outsiretched, appealing.
In the catalogue room, growing things:
pots of flowers on each desk; an amber
canary twittering; a bowl Of goldfish.
the advent of each new fish important
enough to draw the whole force about
the bowl; the visit Of little child bring
ing sray-haired women to their feet with
baby talk and kisses-oferings at the
shrine of dead dreams
They had their buzz of gossip, these
fellow workers Of Miss May. and once
the force Of il centered about her.
She was 40-cdd by now. her hair
white. like the SHOWS Of March. Or has
that been said too often? Sometimes
there was still that quality Of expectancy
about her. piercing through the encroach-
ments of cards. The second romance Of
her life had crept into her heart
The newest librarian had come-Rich-
ard B. Warwick. He is the hero. A
man who had retained the spirit Of his
youth some time after its semblance had
vanished He was ~ or 43 or ~. quick
and slender, somewhat full-lipped, with
eyes that could make women conscious
of his presence. And from the first May
Greer loved him with all the ardor she !
might have vested in that knight WIN |
never came riding by
As for Warwick, like the long-lost Jim
Darnham, he caught the appeal in that |
quirk about her mouth. She seemed to i
have a rejuvenation Of her vanished |
youth, bringing a softer glow to her eyes
and lighter swing to her walk Very
often Warwick stopped by her desk for
a talk. about a new book or lost one or
or other things. The weather some
days; again the latest play; again he.
spray of apple blossoms on her desk.
One day he asked her to lunch. /
There's a nice little tea room on Wal
nut street." he began. "A new place.
Suppose We try it some day; say, this !,
noon even"
Miss Greer. with the song Of an old
'pring in her memory, said very casual
y, why, yes, that will be nice" Too
They lunched there that day and then,
sometimes, on an average Of once each
week. Occasionally he came TO see her
N the dim old house where Mrs. Greer
uttered about him happily. Even
Greer. now a bed-chained invalid, felt
hat the tang of some ncwness had come
nio the house.
Gossip continued to buzz, as ii has a
way Of doing. Each luncheon date was
discussed at the drinking fountain or in
he stacks, the common meeting ground.
Wasn't Miss May stepping out, though!
be surprised if something
night happen soon. Can't tell what will
lappen next in this world of ours. Gu
ious. though.
Miss May, all this. time, was busy
irewing flowers to the memory Of Jim
)arnham. If he hadn't gone away, she
souldn'; have been here now or known
richard Warwick, or felt so much
weetness. Things are always for the