"Come when he's having his afternoon sleep," said John.
So Betty was smuggled into her grandfather's library.
It was Saturday afternoon when she went to the great house. She had to slip away from Dot, who was making elaborate alterations to a pretty blue muslin frock (she was invited to spend the next Saturday and Sunday with Alma Montague, the doctor's daughter); her mother was calling "Betty, come here," in the front garden as she reached the track through the bush, and Cyril and Nancy had implored her to "come and play something."
But Betty had a "career" to think of. She ran through the bush and arrived breathless at that part of her grandfather's fence which ran past their coral islands. At a certain hour every afternoon, John said, his grandfather went to sleep. It was during this sleep time that Betty was to search the shelves of his library for a book that should enlighten her as to the best way to become a "self-made woman."
She slipped under the fence, and into the little belt of bush that bounded the emu run, and where she, as a ghost, had waited.
John's signal came very soon, and Betty immediately took off her bonnet and rolled it up under her arm—the better to hear—and marched boldly across the gravel paths to the library window where John stood.
"Where is he?" asked Betty.
"Asleep on the little verandah," said John; "he always sleeps a long time after dinner."
Betty stepped into the room and looked around her curiously.
It was such a room as she had never seen yet, and it pleased her greatly. Two enormous bookcases full of books stood side by side against one wall. Another wall was book-lined for about eight feet of its height and ten of its length. The centre-table had a dark blue cloth upon it and bore magazines, books and newspapers and writing materials.