“They are mostly different editions of the same thing,” said Mary wisely. “I shan’t have to read every edition. There aren’t so very many books by him, really. Not more than thirty, I think. I’ve been looking at this little red set that’s so easy to handle and has such nice notes. I like the queer spelling. I’m going to read ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ first. I think that’s what Aunt Nan meant.”
“What do you mean by ‘what Aunt Nan meant’?” asked Katy curiously. “Has she written you another letter?” Mary had told her about the will.
“No, not exactly,” confessed Mary. “But see what I found just now when I finished reading ‘Shakespeare the Boy,’—the book that was lying on her desk with that first note she wrote me.” And she opened the volume which she held in her hand at the last page. Below the word “Finis” were penned in a delicate, old-fashioned writing these words:—
Mem. Read in this order, with notes.
1. Midsummer Night’s Dream.
2. Julius Cæsar.
3. Twelfth Night.
4. Tempest.
5. As You Like It.
6. Merchant of Venice.
7. Hamlet, etc.
“Pooh!” cried Katy. “I don’t believe she meant that for you, at all! She was just talking to herself. Let’s see if there was anything written at the end of ‘Master Skylark.’ Didn’t you say that was lying on her desk, too?”
They ran to get this other child’s book, which, queerly enough, had also been left lying on the desk, as if Aunt Nan had just been reading both. And there, too, at the end was written exactly the same list, with the same instructions.
“That settles it!” exclaimed Mary. “She did mean me to see that list, so she left it in both those children’s books, which she thought I would be sure to read first. I am going to read Shakespeare’s plays in just the order she wished. I’m going to read my very own books in my very own library. I’m going to begin this very afternoon!” Mary was quite excited.
“Oh, no! Please not this afternoon!” begged Katy. “I want you to come with me while I do an errand at the express office in Ashley. It is a three-mile walk. I don’t want to go alone. Please, Mary!”
“Oh, bother!” Mary was about to say; for she wanted to begin her reading. But she thought better of it. Katy had been so kind to her. And, after all, it was a beautiful afternoon, and the walk would be very pleasant down a new road which she had never traveled. She laid down the book reluctantly.