She had looked at these doors often; enviously for the most part. She had seen men and women going in and coming out, positively laden with books, and she had thought, rebelliously, that it was extremely unfair. Why should adults be able to borrow books, when they had no real need of them, whereas she herself, who needed to read … But if her teacher’s words were correct then the librarian had no right to turn her out, which was what had happened on the only two previous occasions she had braved the big glass doors and slid inside. Then, she had stared with awe at the shelves and their burden of what must be many thousands of wonderful books, but had barely taken half a dozen steps towards the nearest display when a voice had sounded far too close to her ear, and a hand had descended on to her shoulder. ‘Out!’ the voice had announced, and she was given a painful shove in the direction of the exit. ‘This is no place for children!’ ‘Oh, but I were only looking …’ Hetty had begun.
