The signature of one of the parents, with that of the child's, entitled him to draw books. One little tot begged hard to have a "ticket," and be allowed to take books home, insisting with many emphatic nods that she could write her name. On trial only a few meaningless scratches resulted, and the tears that filled her eyes at her failure were banished only when the librarian promised that she might come each week, and look at the picture books. Another child asked for a card for his little friend who had rheumatism, and couldn't come to the playground. A mother of the neighborhood took a card that she might draw out picture books, and books of rhymes and jingles for the little one at home. The "little mothers" invariably saved a place on their cards for a book to please the baby brother or sister tugging at their skirts, or, it might be, for some older member at home. Very often the whole family read the books. One boy waited till nearly noon on Library day for his father to finish the "Boys of '76." Another said he wished he might take three books, because there were four boys at home, and he would like to have enough "to pretty near go 'round." In another family three of the children were drawing books. Still the older sister had to come down to get a book for herself, saying the others never gave her a chance to read theirs. In these miniature libraries not only do the children become familiar with library regulations, but more judicious and intelligent in the selection of books. At first they choose a book because it has an attractive cover, large print, "lots of talk" (conversation), or because it is small and soon read. "I tell you, them skinny books are the daisies," said one, while the opinion of another was, "These ain't so bad if they'd only put more pictures in to tell what they're about." Later they select a book because the title tells of interesting subject matter, or because a playmate has recommended it as "grand," "dandy," or "a peach." A popular book often has as high as ten or fifteen reserves on it, the Librarian being greeted in the morning with a chorus of, "Teacher please save me"--this or that book. So, from having no idea of choice, the children finally have such a definite idea of what they want, and why they want it, that, unless the particular book is forthcoming, they "guess they don't want any book to-day." One small girl took out "Little Women," and wanted "Little Men" on the same card. When she understood that only one book of fiction could be taken on one card, she inveigled her little sister into taking it on her card. Then she tucked the books under her arm, remarking, with a sigh of satisfaction, "Now, we'll have 'em both in our family." In striking contrast to the excitement attending the selection of books is the lull that follows. Here and there are interested groups looking at the pictures-- delightful foretaste of what is to follow in the text--or comparing the merits of the different books.