Chapter 1: The Overdue Book Problem

The Nutville Library had a problem with returns.

Not ordinary returns. Not one-book-under-the-couch returns. An avalanche of overdue books.

Miss Maple, the librarian, had sent reminder notes to the whole town. Some books were under beds. Some were in wagons. One cookbook had somehow been borrowed by the goose. And three adventure novels were currently being used to level a wobbly table at the mayor's office.

Miss Maple sighed into a stack of paperwork. "Books belong on shelves, not under casseroles."

Nutty, Mama, and Papa were standing at the desk with a pile of slightly late books and one extremely late atlas that Papa claimed had hidden under a blanket all by itself.

"What the library needs," Nutty said, eyes shining, "is a faster return system."

Miss Maple froze. "Define faster."

"Immediate!" Nutty said. "Townwide! Efficient! Exciting!"

Grandma Nutwobble, who had been quietly selecting a gardening book, closed her eyes. "The library does not need exciting."

Nutty already had the notebook out. He drew a tube, a launch ramp, a receiving basket, and a little arrow labeled BOOKS GO WHOOSH, KNOWLEDGE ARRIVES.

Mama gasped happily. "A book rocket!"

Miss Maple clutched the desk. "Books are not supposed to whoosh."

Papa considered this. "Some adventure books seem like they want to."

The more Nutty explained, the worse and better it sounded. He wanted a return launcher in the town square that could send books directly to the library's new rooftop basket. Overdue books would zoom home. Shelves would refill faster. Reading would become "more aerodynamic."

Miss Maple was horrified. But she was also tired. And the overdue pile was large enough to qualify as furniture.

"One demonstration," she said at last. "With a soft basket. And absolutely no encyclopedias."

Nutty saluted. "You won't regret this."

Grandma muttered, "I will."

Chapter 2: Reading at High Velocity

The Library Book Rocket was built from a drainpipe, two wagon springs, a padded book cradle, and a great deal of unreasonable confidence.

Nutty set it up in the town square. At the other end of the route, Papa and Miss Maple climbed to the library roof with a giant laundry basket lined with quilts.

A sign beside the launcher read:

RETURN BOOKS HERE. NO SNACKS. NO BRICKS. NO DRAMA.

Tony the Delivery Fox read the sign carefully. "How do you define drama?"

"You'll know it when you hear it," said Grandma.

For the first test, Nutty chose a small picture book called Mister Acorn Takes a Nap. This seemed wise. It was light, sturdy, and already slightly bent from honest affection.

Nutty placed it in the cradle. Mama held the launcher steady. The whole town leaned in.

FWOOMP.

The book flew in a perfect arc across the square, over the fountain, and into the laundry basket on the library roof.

Miss Maple blinked. Papa threw both paws in the air. "BOOK SUCCESS!"

The crowd cheered.

The second test was a poetry book. Also successful. The third was a mystery novel. It spun twice, bonked the bell tower, and still landed in the basket.

Nutty glowed. "We are revolutionizing literacy."

Grandma shook her head. "You are destabilizing it."

But then the mayor arrived with the table-leveling novels and asked whether all three could be returned at once.

Everyone said no. He heard yes somehow.

Chapter 3: Chapter Books in the Sky

Mayor Buttersworth stacked the three novels in the launcher cradle.

One was a detective story. One was a sea adventure. One was a history of decorative bridges that nobody remembered borrowing.

Nutty stared at the stack. "That is too many chapters for one launch."

"Nonsense," said the mayor. "They are cooperating."

They were not cooperating.

Mama pulled the spring arm. Nutty counted down. Tony covered his head just in case education became aggressive.

FWOOMP-THWIP-FLAP.

The detective story flew toward the roof. The sea adventure spun sideways and landed in the fountain. The bridge book shot straight up, opened in the air, and rained bookmarks all over the square like very scholarly confetti.

Miss Maple made a noise no librarian should ever have to make.

The detective story missed the basket, bounced off the gutter, and landed in Mrs. Hedgehog's flower cart. The sea adventure floated in the fountain like it had always wanted to travel. And the bridge book drifted down onto General Nutbert's head, where it remained open at Chapter Seven: Suspension Supports Through the Ages.

"That feels educational," said Papa from the roof.

"It feels WET," shouted Miss Maple, pointing at the fountain.

Nutty scribbled furiously. "Important data. Books do not all fly equally."

Grandma folded her paws. "A discovery for the ages."

Then a little line formed by the launcher. The children of Nutville were now excited. Very excited. They wanted to see books fly. They wanted to return every overdue title in the town. They wanted, for reasons no one could explain, to launch the dictionary.

Miss Maple climbed down from the roof at once. "Absolutely not the dictionary," she said.

But by then the library return demonstration had become an event. An event with bookmarks in the fountain and chapter books in the sky.

Which was exactly when things became difficult to keep quiet.

Chapter 4: The Great Quiet Retrieval

Libraries are supposed to be quiet.

The book rocket made this extremely hard.

The launcher boomped. The spring squeaked. The basket on the roof rattled. Children cheered every successful return as if books were winning races. And every time a launch went wrong, half the town had to retrieve runaway reading material from strange locations.

By mid-afternoon, the emergency list included:

• one poetry book in a birdbath
• two cookbooks under the bandstand
• one atlas stuck in the mayor's sash
• and the sea adventure novel still circling the fountain like a tiny soggy ship

Miss Maple marched into the square with the strictest face anybody had seen since the Great Whispering Contest of spring.

"Enough," she said.

The whole town froze. Even the goose looked guilty, which was suspicious because the goose usually looked proud.

Nutty swallowed. "The return rate is much better?"

Miss Maple pointed to the roof basket. It was true. The basket was filling up. Books were getting home faster. The problem was everything else: the chasing, the splashing, the bonking, and the general feeling that literature had joined a circus.

Grandma stepped beside Nutty and looked at the launcher. "The machine is too strong," she said. "Books do not need conquering. They need guiding."

That gave Nutty an idea. Not a bigger idea. A smaller one. Which for him was rare enough to count as genius.

He took off the big springs. He lowered the ramp. He swapped the launch cradle for a rolling book chute lined with felt. He hung a cloth tunnel from the end and aimed it straight at a ground-floor return cart by the library door.

Papa tested it with Mister Acorn Takes a Nap.

The book rolled. It slid. It whisper-whooshed through the tunnel. And it landed neatly in the return cart with a soft little thump.

The square went quiet.

Then Miss Maple smiled. Just a little.

"That," she said, "is library speed."

Chapter 5: A Better Return System

By sunset, Nutville had returned almost every overdue book.

Not by blasting them across the sky. Not by launching them into fountains. Not by decorating the square with accidental bookmarks.

By rolling them swiftly, neatly, and surprisingly elegantly through the new book chute.

Children loved feeding books into the tunnel. Miss Maple loved that the books arrived dry. Papa loved the cushioned return cart because it made a very satisfying little thump. Mama said it was less exciting than the original rocket but more useful, which was annoyingly true.

And Nutty, though he would never fully stop loving the phrase library book rocket, had to admit the quieter version worked better.

The old launcher tube was left leaning against the wall behind the library with a sign on it:

RETIRED FROM ACTIVE WHOOSHING

Tony asked if they might use it someday for umbrellas. Grandma said no so fast the air changed shape.

As the sky turned gold, Miss Maple placed the final returned book on the cart and looked around her tidy library with relief.

"Thank you," she told Nutty.

Nutty grinned. "Even though I launched three novels into weather?"

"Especially because you stopped launching them into weather," she said.

That seemed fair.

So the Nutville Library closed that evening with shelves fuller, the fountain drier, and the books all back where they belonged.

Well, almost all.

The decorative bridge history was still on General Nutbert's head. But everyone agreed that, for one more night, it looked surprisingly scholarly there.