“No. But I suddenly knew. I’ve seen homesick girls at college, and–and–well, there was a little while, just a little while, when I was getting strong enough to do things, and before Hannah came to visit, that I felt that way myself, so I know.”
Dr. Helen’s look was like a pressure of the hand, and she answered gently:
“I think you are very likely right, Catherine. And this plan of yours is to make Algernon less lonely?”
“Do you think he knows he’s lonely?” asked Dr. Harlow. “I’ve thought the boy had good stuff in him, and if he should ever wake up to the fact that he’s a bore, he might amount to something worth while. You don’t think he has, do you?”
“Not exactly,” Catherine confessed, remembering the note-book’s appearance at the end of her little story. “But I think he has an inkling that he might be of more use. I told him he was a walking library. He does know such an amazing amount, you know! And he said Winsted would be better off if it had a real library instead of his kind; and then it flashed into my mind how he would love living among books, and how fine it would be for the town if all that knowledge of his could be used–”
“Like wasted water power?” suggested her father.
13“Yes. That’s just it. He has read more than any one in this town, except you, Father dear, and you are very old-fashioned in your reading. You never heard of some of the modern books that Algernon knows all about. Why couldn’t we start a library and have Algernon run it? It would make people appreciate him.”
“It would keep him occupied at certain hours, and assure you of freedom from his calls,” said Dr. Harlow, but Catherine was in earnest and refused to be teased.
“Wouldn’t it be practical, really, Mother? Algernon can’t go away to school. His mother isn’t willing, you know, and he needs to be here to look after Elsmere. But he could study there, and lots of towns as small as this do have libraries.”