Emily's Runaway Imagination by Beverly Cleary

Author:Beverly Cleary
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061972171
Publisher: HarperCollins

By this time everyone seemed to be well supplied with cream and sugar, so Emily set her tray on the tea table and slipped around the edge of the room to the library corner. “Mama, did you save me a book?” she asked.

“There are still books left to choose from,” answered Mama.

And there were! Just think of it, real library books right here in Pitchfork, Oregon. The Dutch Twins, The Tale of Jemima Puddleduck—what a tiny book that was! Emily had not known they made such little books. The Curly-haired Hen, English Fairy Tales. But no Black Beauty. Oh well, perhaps another time. Emily chose English Fairy Tales because it was the thickest, and Mama wrote her name on a little card that she removed from a pocket in the book. Emily now had a library book to read. She could hardly wait to write to her cousin Muriel in Portland.

Emily had settled down in a slippery leather armchair to begin her book, when something made her glance toward the top of the stairs. A strange boy about Emily’s age stood in the doorway. He was wearing clean faded overalls and his hair must have been cut with a pair of dull scissors by his father. He looked uncertainly at the ladies’ hats and the tea table and turned to leave.

“Won’t you come in?” asked Mama, with a smile.

The boy was glad to have someone welcome him. Shyly he approached Mama’s table. “Ma’am, is it all right if I get some books for my family?” he asked.

Mama smiled at the boy. “I don’t believe I have seen you in Pitchfork before. Do you live in the country?”

“No, ma’am. I live in Greenvale,” he answered. “We read about the library in the Pitchfork Report and I walked down the railroad track to see if we could get some books too.”

“Why, that’s at least four miles,” said Mama, “and four miles back again.”

The boy looked at the floor. “Yes ma’am.”

“Of course you may take books for your family,” said Mama. This boy wanted to read. That was enough for her. It made no difference where he lived.

Emily watched while the boy, oblivious to everyone else, selected his books with care. A book about wild animals. That must be for himself. The Tale of Jemima Puddleduck for a little brother or sister. Two grown-up books that must be for his mother and father. When Mama had written his name on the little cards, the boy pulled a clean white flour sack out of his hip pocket, unfolded it and carefully put the books inside. “I’ll take good care of them, ma’am, and bring them back next Saturday.”

“I hope you enjoy them,” said Mama, watching the boy as he slipped through the crowd and disappeared down the stairs. “Just think, that boy is willing to walk eight miles along a railroad track for books,” she remarked, and Emily thought that Mama looked both happy and sad at the same time.

Gradually the crowd drifted away, until at last only Emily and the members of the Ladies’ Civic Club were left.

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