Harriet Loomis Smith, 1929.
“Listen, everybody. I’m going to start a circulating library [having discovered there are no books on the ranch]. Spots on the tablecloth will be subject to a fine of one cent for children and five for adults. And we’ll use the money for buying books. And then we’ll all ask our friends to send us the books they are through with.”
“I’ll present you with the text-books I used in college,” offered Dorothy generously. “I’ve finished with them, I hope.”
“They’d be useful to somebody, I don’t doubt, but they don’t fit in with this plan. I want the most interesting books that have ever been written. I know lots of people that will help. Aunt Ruth and Lorraine and Anne and – ”
You’ll have to appoint a censor, won’t you?” interrupted Jimmy. “It won’t do to corrupt the morals of this valley.”
Pollyanna’s hesitation was momentary. “I’ll tell them to send only nice books, of course. There really are plenty of them, though they’re not talked about as much as the others. It’s like the happy marriages. The people who quarrel and fight and sue for divorce get into the newspapers, and the happy couples are never mentioned.”