Then she told the little girl that the tulip story was not in a book, and that she must tell it to her grandmother just as she remembered hearing it, and that having seen the fairies while she listened would help her to remember the story better. She could see pictures all the time she was telling stories, she said. The little girl had never thought of making pictures for herself before. She had only seen them in books and hanging on walls. This unconscious tribute to the art of the storyteller made a lasting impression on the children's librarian. If a child of less than eight years, and of no exceptional parts, could so clearly discriminate between the fairy tale she had heard at school and the tale that made her "see the fairies," there was little truth in the statement that children do not appreciate artistic storytelling. She went back to her children's room feeling that something worth while had happened. The children who had listened to the stories now crowded about the book shelves, eager for "any book about fairies," "a funny book," or "a book about animals." The little girl who had seen the fairies was not the only one who had fallen under the spell of the storyteller. "I always knew Pandora was a nice story, but she never seemed like a live girl before," said one of the older girls. "I liked the Brahmin, the Jackal and the Tiger best," exclaimed a boy. "Gee! but couldn't you just see that tiger pace when she was saying the words?" "I just love The Little Tin Soldier," said a small boy who hated to read, but was always begging the children's librarian to tell him stories about the pictures he found in books. "Didn't she make him march fine!" Before the end of the day the children's librarian had decided that even if there could be but one such story hour in the lifetime of an individual or an institution it would pay in immediate and far-off results. But why stop with one; why not have more story hours in children's libraries? Other children's librarians were asking themselves the same question, and then they asked their librarians, and those who recognized in the story hour a powerful ally in stimulating a love of good literature and a civilizing influence wherever the gang spirit prevailed, gave ready assent. Ten years have passed and the story hour is now an established feature in the work of children's libraries. Miss Shedlock came to America to tell stories to children and to their fathers and mothers. She returned year after year to remind the schools and colleges, the training schools and the kindergartens, as well as the public libraries, of the great possibilities in what she so aptly called "the oldest and the newest of the arts."