“Thank you, Mrs. Channing.” Leah laid the typewritten sheet before her and read out loud. “As you know, the library has been collecting for the Victory Book Campaign and has accumulated a large quantity of books since May when the Army and Navy stopped accepting donations. Thank you for agreeing to donate books to the Camp Forrest Library. Miss Myra Mayhew sends her heartfelt gratitude, as do our men in uniform.”

Murmurs of appreciation circled the room.

Leah took a deep breath to smooth the wrinkles in her voice. “On the first of this month, the American Library Association voted to close the campaign at the end of the year. The first item in my proposal is for the Tullahoma Library to continue to collect books, with appropriate donations to be sent to the Camp Forrest Library.”

“The floor is open for discussion,” Mrs. Channing said.

“I love the idea,” Rita Sue said. “The Red Cross collection bins are already in place. I’m willing to continue collecting the books, and Mrs. Paxton is willing to sort them and bring them to Camp Forrest. We’d only need new signs on the bins.”

The proposal passed unanimously.

Leah’s heart raced with joy. “The second part of the proposal concerns the books that Camp Forrest does not accept. One-third of the donations are worn out or are not suitable for soldiers. The Victory Book Campaign allows us to scrap such books, but I propose that we find homes for those in good condition. The school librarians are interested in some of the titles. I propose that we donate those titles to the schools, with the remainder to be donated to the Coffee Children’s Home.”

Mrs. Channing wrinkled her nose. “I’m on the orphanage board. They don’t have a library.”

Leah smiled at her. “All the more reason to start one.”

Mrs. Channing sighed and removed her glasses. “They’re orphans, Mrs. Paxton. They come from the basest of backgrounds. Dirty, illiterate hooligans.”

Leah pressed back in her seat, the barbs stinging no less for their familiarity. Dirty orphans didn’t deserve books, and they didn’t belong at meetings with ladies from good homes.

“If there’s no further discussion . . .”

“There’s further discussion.” Rita Sue nudged Leah.

How could she speak up? But if Leah didn’t speak up for the orphans, who would? “My parents died when I was four years old. I was raised in an orphanage.”

A few gasps.

Something kindled inside Leah. “As a child, I found my home in stories. Good literature teaches children to be resourceful and brave and cheerful and compassionate. Don’t we want orphans to learn those lessons so they can become good citizens?”

Ladies nodded around the table.

Not Mrs. Channing. “You are the exception. The orphans here are a filthy, unruly lot. Far better to donate the books to the scrap drive. With such a serious paper shortage, that would be most patriotic.”