"Where do you get all these books, Louise?"
"They are all Mother's, you know. Nobody else wants them. And then there's the Free Library."
Clare shuddered. She would sooner have drunk from the tin cup of a public fountain than have handled the greasy volumes of a public library.
"How can you?" she said disgustedly. "Dirt and dog-ears!"
Louise opened her eyes. She was too young to be squeamish.
"'A book's a book for a' that,'" she laughed. "How else am I to get hold of any—that I like?"
Clare jerked her head to the lined walls.
"Help yourself," she said.
Louise was radiant.
"May I? Oh, you are good! I will take such care. I'll cover them in brown paper."