And now, I am sure I don't know what I ought to do."
"Do?" I asked. "There is nothing to do except to begin writing where you
left off. The wasp is dead."
"I wish it had never been born," she said. "I have no doubt that the
whole affair should come to an end now, and that I ought to go home; but
I can't do that until Sister Sarah comes to unlock the door, and so I
suppose we had better go to work."
"We"! I would not have dared to use that word, but it fell from her lips
in the easiest and most conventional manner possible. It was delightful
to hear it. I never knew before what a pleasant sound the word had. She
now set herself to work to gather up the papers from the floor, and,
having arranged them in their proper order, she took up her bonnet.
"Do you have to wear that?" I asked.
"Certainly," she answered, clapping it on and pulling it well forward.
"I should think it would be very hot and uncomfortable," I remarked.
"It is," she admitted curtly; and, seating herself at the table, she
took up her pen.
I now perceived that if I knew what was good for myself I would cease
from speaking on ordinary topics, and go on with my dictation. This I
did, giving out my sentences as rapidly as possible, although I must
admit I took no interest whatever in what I was saying, nor do I believe
that my secretary was interested in the subject-matter of my work.
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