iful
illustrated _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 grass 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 grass, 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, wishing 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 grass turned green and the flowers began to
blossom and nod, and the corn-stalks lifted up their heads and waved new
tassels, 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 lookin