happen, even if it was only a request to save a seven-day book
for Mrs. De Guenther! Nobody ever wanted _something_, any kind of a
something, to happen more wildly than the Liberry Teacher did that
bored, stickily wet Saturday afternoon, with those tired seven years at
the Greenway Branch dragging at the back of her neck, and the seven
times seven to come making her want to scream. So few things can
possibly happen to you, no matter how good you are, when you work by the
day. And now maybe something--oh, please, the very smallest kind of a
something would be welcomed!--was going to occur. Maybe Mrs. De Guenther
had sent her a ticket to a concert; she had once before. Or maybe, since
you might as well wish for big things while you're at it, it might even
be a ticket to an expensive seat in a real theatre! Her pleasure-hungry,
work-heavy blue eyes burned luminous at the idea.

"But I really shouldn't wish," she reminded her prancing mind belatedly.
"He may only have come down to talk about the weather. It mayn't any of
it be true."

So she stood up straight and gravely, and answered very courteously and
holding-tightly all the amiable roundabout remarks the old gentleman was
shoving forward like pawns on a chessboard before the real game begins.
She answered with the same trained cheerfulness she could give her
library children when her head and her disposition ached worst; and even
warmed to a vicious enthusiasm over the state of the streets and the
wetness of the damp weather.

"He knows lots of real things to say," she complained to herself, "why
doesn't he say them, instead of talking editorials? I suppose this is
his bedside--no, lawyers don't have bedside manners--well, his barside
manner, then----"

It is difficult to think and listen at the same time: by this time she
had missed a beautiful long paragraph about the Street-Cleaning
Department; and something else, apparently. For her friend was holding
out to her a note addressed to her flowingly in his wife's English hand,
and was saying,

"--which she has asked me to deliver. I trust you have no imperative
engagement for to-morrow night."

Something _had_ happened!

"Why, no!" said the Liberry Teacher delightedly. "No, indeed! Thank you,
and her, too. I'd love to come."

"Teacher!" clamored a small chocolate-colored citizen in a Kewpie
muffler, "my maw she want' a book call' 'Ugwin!' She say it got a yellow
cover an' pictures in it."

"Just a moment!"