She went over to the desk. “I’d like to take this book home.” The librarian looked at the title and raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you think this is a little technical?” she smiled indulgently. “We have a copy of Lorna Doone, Jane Eyre.”
“Thank you,” Judy smiled, “but I read those.”
“Dickens?” The librarian suggested helpfully.
“This book’s history, isn’t it?” Judy said, holding the book possessively. “I like history and since I’m staying in Aspen, I think I ought to look into—”
“Very well,” the librarian said kindly. “How shall I make out the card? There’s a deposit of one dollar, which will be returned to you when you leave Aspen.”
“A dollar!” Judy exclaimed. To give up so much money even if only temporarily—she emptied the contents of her bag on the librarian’s desk, although she knew all the time that it contained only twenty-five cents.
“May I take the book for a quarter and bring the rest of it tomorrow?”
“No, dear. You come tomorrow and in the meantime I’ll put the book aside for you, although,” she added with a smile, “no one has taken it from the shelf in years.” Her smile was so friendly, Judy wondered how she could have thought her grim and forbidding.
Judy stood there in a quandary. It was much too early to go anywhere for her lunch and she no longer wished to remain in the library. The Wheeler Opera House again obtruded itself upon her thoughts. It was just around the block. Since she was here—
“Miss...” Judy began. “Wilkes,” the librarian finished for her.