I'll shlip up an' peep." Molly went softly up-stairs, and Patty followed on tiptoe.

It seemed strange to be so quiet, for at Villa Rosa everybody seemed to try to make all the noise possible.
"You can go in," said Molly, after her peep, "nobody's there; but the chairs is all settin' in rows, so I guess a club or somethin' is comin'.
But go in, miss, dear, an' amuse yerself." So Patty went in the library, which was a large back room on the main floor.
It has been said that a house without a library is like a body without a soul, and surely the library was the soul of the Fleming home.

It was a beautiful room, built out behind the rest of the house, with a large skylight of stained glass, and a wide bay window whose cushioned seats looked very attractive.
Patty sat down and looked about her.

The room was furnished with many well-filled bookcases, several small desks and tables, and a number of reading-chairs, whose broad arms held books and magazines.
Patty began at once to examine the titles of the books, and was delighted to find a large case full of children's books, containing all her old favorites, and many more that she had never read.
She selected "The Water Babies," which belonged to the latter class, and curling herself up on the window-seat, was soon absorbed in the story.
A little later, she heard the street door open and shut, and then Cousin Barbara whisked hurriedly into the library.

She didn't see Patty at first, but sat down at a desk at the other end of the room, and hastily sorted over some papers.
"Ten-thirty to eleven-thirty, pigs," she murmured; "eleven-thirty to twelve, write paper on Choctaw costumes; twelve to one, attend Bootblacks' dinner.