don’t really want to take it out,” said Francie, “and I’m not eleven years old.” The librarian looked up at Francie for the first time. “I’ve been coming here since I was a little girl,” said Francie, “and you never looked at me till now.” “There are so many children,” said the librarian fretfully. “I can’t be looking at each one of them. Anything else?” “I just want to say about that brown bowl…what it has meant to me…the flower always in it.” The librarian looked at the brown bowl. There was a spray of pink wild aster in it. Francie had an idea that the librarian was seeing the brown bowl
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