Chapter 19 Part 1 Chapter 2 Libraries and Horses (2)

She took the card, stamped it, and put it in a slot on the desk.She stamped Francie's card and pushed it back to her.Francie picked it up, but didn't go yet. "Anything else?" the librarian asked without looking at her. "Can you recommend a good book to a girl?" "How big is it?" "Eleven years old." Francie made the same request every week, and the librarian kept answering the same question.The names on the cards meant nothing to her, and besides she didn't look at the child's face.Francie came to borrow one book a week, and two on Saturdays, and it was no use running so often.Francie would be happy if she could smile a little, or say a kind word.She loves the library and wants to be admired by its administrators.Too bad the librarian was always thinking of other things.She hated children anyway.

Francie trembled with anxiety as the woman reached under the table for the book.When the book was taken out, she saw that the title was "If I Were King", by McCarthy.Excellent!Last week it was Beverly of Glostuck, and this one was two weeks ago.She had only read McCarthy's book twice.The librarian recommended these two books over and over again many times.Maybe she'd only read a couple of them herself; maybe some list recommended them; maybe she found it best for eleven-year-old girls. Francie hugged the book tightly and trotted home, always wanting to find a step to sit down and read, but she restrained the desire.

Finally home, sitting on the fire escape and reading a book was something she had been looking forward to for a whole week.She put a cushion on the fire escape, took pillows from the bed, and leaned against the railing.Fortunately, there is still ice in the freezer.She chipped off a small piece and put it in a glass of water.She puts the pink and white wafers she bought in the morning in a small bowl.The small bowl is a little cracked, but the blue color is pleasing to the eye.She put cups, bowls and books on the windowsill and climbed up the fire escape.When she got to the fire escape, she was living in a tree.No one upstairs, downstairs, left or right could see her.But she can see everything through the leaves.

It is a sunny afternoon.A lazy warm wind blows, bringing a warm ocean breath.Leaves create shifting patterns on white pillows.There was no one in the yard, which was nice.Usually the yard was occupied on the ground floor by the son of a shopkeeper who played endlessly in a graveyard game.He would dig a small grave, put the caterpillars he had caught alive in a matchbox, bury them, hold an informal funeral, and erect a small stone in front of the little dirt bag as a tombstone.During the game, he continued to fake cry, crying until his chest heaved and heaved.But today the sad boy went out to Bensonhurst to see his aunt.He wasn't home, and Francie was as happy as a birthday present.

Francie breathed the warm air, watched the shadows of the trees dance, read, ate snacks, and drank ice water. if i were king my love ah if i were king The story of François Villon became more and more interesting to her as she read it.Sometimes she worried that the book would get lost in the library and never be read again, so she bought a copybook for two cents and copied the book.She has always wanted to own a book, and if she can't, she can just copy one.However, the page numbers written by these pencils did not look like books in the library after all, nor did they smell like books in the library, so she had to give up.The idea that she vowed to work hard when she grew up, to save money, and to buy all the books she loved was a huge comfort.

In this way, she was holding a book, guarding a bowl of snacks, staying at home alone, watching the shadows of the trees swaying, and letting the afternoon slip by. This is a state that a little girl can achieve.She just read the book like this, living in harmony with the world, and she was happy in her heart.About four o'clock the tenement opposite Francie's came to life.Through the leaves she looked at the large open windows.She saw people go out with beer jugs and come back full of cold, frothy beer.Children ran in and out, to and from the butcher shop, the grocer, the bakery.The woman came running back with the bulging pawn shop package.Men's Sunday suits are back again.On Monday, it will be sent back to the pawn shop for another week.The weekly interest alone is enough for these pawnshops to make a fortune.It's not bad for the suits either, they'll be wiped down, hung up, and mothballed to keep moths out.Suits go in on Monday and come out on Saturday.Uncle Timmy charges a dime in interest.This mortgage and redemption cycle is repeated.