I would not say that I would as soon dictate to an
inanimate tree-stump, but I would express that idea in as courteous
terms as possible.
For fifteen minutes I let the nun sit and wait. If her principles
forbade idleness, I was glad to have a crack at her principles. Then I
began to dictate steadily and severely. I found that the dismissal from
my mind of all conjectures regarding the personality of my secretary was
of great service to me, and I was able to compose much faster than she
could write.
It was about half past ten, I think, and the morning was warm and
pleasant, when there gently sailed into the secretary's room, through
the open window, a wasp. I saw him come in, and I do not think I ever
beheld a more agreeable or benignant insect. His large eyes were filled
with the light of a fatherly graciousness. His semi-detached body seemed
to quiver with a helpful impulse, and his long hind legs hung down
beneath him as though they were outstretched to assist, befriend, or
succor. With wings waving blessings and a buzz of cheery greeting, he
sailed around the room, now dipping here, now there, and then circling
higher, tapping the ceiling with his genial back.
The moment the nun saw the wasp, a most decided thrill ran down the back
of her shawl.
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