She wasn’t much to look at; a young woman, slight of frame, posture, quite correct. Her daily costume was serviceable and free of dust. In fact, it was the town’s general opinion that their librarian was free of most anything interesting. But her commitment to her position was notable. The sun never made her acquaintance for she spent the entirety of her day moving like a wraith among the stacks, her arms full of books, her voice never sounding above a whisper. She was the perfect model of loyalty and efficiency save her mild propensity for the occasional bout of absent-mindedness.
That is why it came as such a shock when Earnest Peppermill, afflicted with a question that simply could not wait, discovered her in the back of the stacks engrossed in one of those French novels his mother had worked so hard to ban.
Rumor has it that little Earnest found her crumpled unceremoniously in the corner reading wide-eyed, white knuckles clutching the sinful volume. “Her cheeks were crimson with stirred desires,” Earnest’s mother assured the good women of the town’s Propriety League. And the news was met with gasping breaths and clucking tongues. They had all had their doubts about that girl from the moment she was hired. After-all, no one can be that unremarkable. No one! And now they had their proof. SCANDAL!