It was the second Thursday of the month and that could only mean one thing: library day! To be sure, library day fell more than once a month, but Clementine Meadows was determined never to miss second Thursdays. Why? Because a certain pale, slim youth, whose identity remained unknown, was wont to peruse the poetry section on that day.
Clementine had noticed him one afternoon in early August, quoting The Rime of the Ancient Mariner like a madman as he clutched the volume of Coleridge to his heart, and she had been properly smitten ever since!
As she prepared a little picnic luncheon for the outing, Clementine could not keep her thoughts fixed upon the task at hand. She cut tiny triangles of bread and spread them with cream cheese. Upon these she arranged paper thin slices of cucumber, olives, and lox. As she sprinkled a pinch of salt over the creation she caught herself wondering whether the mysterious library patron also cared for lox. Steady, Clementine! Blushing, she wrapped her sandwiches in a bit of white paper and tied the package with string. To this she added a cluster of chilled grapes, a wedge of brie, a treacle tart, and a bottle of fizzy drink.
But the afternoon did not unfold as Clementine secretly hoped it would. In fact, it appeared at first to be headed for disaster! For starters, the pale, slim youth was nowhere to be found. Clementine spent the better part of an hour wrestling with Beowulf in its original text, during which time the only other patron in the vicinity was a horrid little boy who came along and kicked her picnic basket!
It was a lost cause--Clementine could not pretend things were otherwise. With a sigh she gathered her books together: a volume of Keats, the more obscure works by Austen, and a collection of short stories by that troubled Frenchman, Maupassant. But when Clementine presented her card to Miss Pruitt at the circulation desk, the typically humorless librarian scowled with even greater malcontent.
"It would appear, Miss Meadows, that you have an overdue book," said Miss Pruitt, fixing Clementine with an unforgiving stare. An overdue book?! Clementine swooned. She thought her legs would give out from under her. Steady, Clementine!
"An overdue book? B-b-but I don't understand..." she stammered.
Miss Pruitt smirked, as if to say: a likely story! It was clear she was not the new kid on the block, as far as librarians were concerned.
"It seems you've accumulated quite a substantial fine," she continued, and anyone could see Miss Pruitt was rather enjoying the moment. It was sport to a librarian, nothing personal.
A fine? Clementine gasped and grabbed at the circulation desk for support. Oh dear, what was to become of her! How could she survive this stain?!
"Wh-wh-what am I being charged with?," she finally managed to ask.
"Come, come, Miss Meadows! Out with it!" Little flecks of spittle were forming at the corners of Miss Pruitt's mouth: clearly, she was just getting started. "The sooner you own up to flaunting the rules upon which society is predicated, the sooner you admit your reckless behavior, the sooner you confess the dark secret of harboring The Collected Works of Samuel Coleridge, the better it will be for all of us!"
"Is that so, Miss Pruitt?!," a voice rang out.
Clementine spun around and saw the pale, slim youth striding toward her! Only he couldn't accurately be described as pale anymore. Dear me, no! The color was high in his cheeks--he was practically crimson!
It was Miss Pruitt's turn to pale.
"Oh, Master Simon!," she exclaimed, her hands making a mess of the papers on her desk, "I declare, sire, I thought you were on holiday to Bath!"
"Holiday to Bath? Holiday to Bath?! What has that to do with anything?! Look here, Pruitt, if this is the way you treat anxious young ladies when I'm not present, then you'd jolly well better find yourself a new post!," exclaimed the youth, fixing the miserable librarian with a look of disdain. He turned to Clementine and regarded her heroically.
"Miss Meadows, will you accept the apologies of your humble servant, Simon Fotheringham, Esquire?," he said, bowing low.
Simon Fotheringham, Esquire?! Simon Fotheringham, Esquire?! As in, the Simon Fotheringham--Duke of Notting Hill, patron of the arts, batchelor extraordinaire?!
Steady, Clementine!
Clementine Meadows snapped out of her swoon with lightning speed. Favoring the duke with a radiant smile, she took his proffered hand and stepped delicately out of a life of overdue books and unrequited longing. On the horizon there was nothing but happiness, recitations, and picnics for two.
******
And here we are, dear reader, contemplating one another yet again on this lovely Monday morning! Did you have a nice weekend? Did you eat cookies? Are you ready for another Tollipop Hundred Dresses giveaway?!
The prize, to refresh your memory, is a copy of Eleanor Estes's wonderful book The Hundred Dresses, plus one of each existing Tollipop "hundred dresses" prints to date (in other words, a total of six!). This week's prize will include the darling Clementine and her furiously fuschia frock!
Please spread the news! Please invite your friends! If you would like to mention this giveaway on your blog, you are more than welcome to borrow any images from this post. Remember, if the giveaway winner is directed here via someone else, then that generous soul will receive a Tollipop print of his or her choice!
In order to play, all you must do is leave a comment at the bottom of this post. Several people have urged me to establish more interesting guidelines for leaving comments, but I am loathe to do so in the event this produces the dreaded writer's block!
I, myself, am perfectly content if you would just prefer to say hello (or talk about your cats!), but for the extreme readers out there, the ones who are always on the lookout for the next commenting high--feel free to speculate on what Clementine and the duke might have said or done in the moments after they left poor Miss Pruitt hyperventilating at her desk. In other words, what happens next?
I will keep the contest open until this Friday at noon PST. All entries received up until that very moment shall be considered for the drawing. Thank you so much for visiting Tollipop, reading these indulgent stories, and playing along!