One of the constant readers in this library was an old friend of the librarian, a quaint little gentleman who wore long hair curling at the ends, knee breeches, and shoes with big buckles. The librarian must have told him of the little girl’s request, for when she came again, he talked with her about the books that she had read and advised her to read Plutarch’s “Lives.” He was not so canny as the librarian, for this book, too, was in fine print and pages of two columns, and the little girl never read it until she had become a big girl. And, alas, she never read the scholarly essay on the cacao tree which the learned Doctor in Concord had given her. She always felt guilty about this latter piece of neglect, and when—not through her fault—the pamphlet was lost, she was uneasily glad.

The mother was sometimes a little troubled because Ella did not like to read history.

“It is too hard for me,” objected the little girl.

“But in that little history of yours, the words are not nearly so long as in ‘Robinson Crusoe,’ and you do not think that is hard,” said the mother.

“No, but long words don’t make reading hard,” said Ella. “I like to think I’ve read half a line in just one word. It’s like the dissected map of the United States; it isn’t any harder to put in Texas than Rhode Island, and Texas is so big that when I have put it in, I feel as if I had really done something. Short words don’t make reading easy and long words don’t make it hard. I don’t know what it is, but somehow it’s the way they write it that makes it hard or easy. I’m going to know how to do it some time, and then I’ll write some hard books for children that shall be easy to read.”

Ella was quite given to making lists of the books that she read, and often for a number of weeks in succession she read at the rate of a book a day. The following is one of her lists with her occasional comments:

Up Hill, or Life in the Factory.
Gulliver’s Travels.
Studies for Stories.
Harry’s Vacation, or Philosophy at Home.
Winifred Bertram.
New School Dialogues.
Hetty’s Hopes, or Trust in God.
Romantic Belinda.
Ruth Hall.
Lewis, or the Bended Twig.
True Stories of the Days of Washington. A very good book indeed. It tells about deeds of heroism and honor. I never read it before. Began it the 26 of December, finished it 27.
Storybook by Hans Christian Andersen. Very good.
Tim the Scissors Grinder.
Atlantic Monthly. Andersonville Prisoners.
Fighting Joe.
Agnes Hopetoun’s Schools and Holidays.
Curious Stories about Fairies and Other Funny People.
Merry’s Museum.
The Orphan Nieces.
Neighbor Jackwood.
Trials and Confessions of a Housekeeper.
Summer in Scotland.
Life of Josephine.
Pilgrim’s Progress.
Tales of the Saxons.
Tanglewood Tales.
Christmas Greens. A splendid story telling about two boys who went and got some evergreens and sold them and gave the money to their mother, who needed it very much, and so got on till they became great and good.
The Young Crusoe.
A Year after Marriage.
Moral Tales.
Poor and Proud. Splendid.
Arabian Nights.
Popular Tales from the Norse.
Out of Debt. Out of Danger.
Peter Parley’s Stories.
The Magic Ring.
Curiosities of Natural History.
Swiss Family Robinson. I have read it a great many times, but it is so good I wanted to read it again.

Somehow, though one can hardly see how, the small girl contrived to get in a vast amount of play. Her special friend was a particularly nice boy who lived next door, indeed, nearer than next door, for the children persuaded the authorities of the two houses to slip off a board from the fence between. Beejay, as Ella called him, went to the public school, which had two sessions, while the “Private School for Young Ladies” had only one; so it was a little difficult to bring their leisure hours together; but they made the most of every minute.

They played games without end, croquet, authors, the checkered game of life, the smashed-up locomotive—a locomotive with a bell-topped smokestack, a big bell, and a little whistle—dissected maps, and one game that they called “By a Lady,” since that legend alone was printed on the box. They made a very creditable ghost with the help of chalk and phosphorus, and were jubilant when a kindly older sister pretended to be badly scared by its horrors.

Once upon a time they saved up their pennies till they had enough to buy a cocoanut; and such a cocoanut! It was the largest they had ever seen and cost no more than a small one! It was not shaped quite like the cocoanuts that they had bought before, but the dealer told them to cut off the outside husk, and they would have a fine large nut within.