MARGERY has a passion for writing just now. I can see nothing in it
myself, but if people WILL write, I suppose you can't stop them.

"Will you just lend me your pencil?" she asked.

"Remind me to give you a hundred pencils some time," I said as I
took it out, "and then you'll always have one. You simply eat
pencils."

"Oo, I gave it you back last time."

"Only just. You inveigle me down here--"

"What do I do?"

"I'm not going to say that again for anybody."

"Well, may I have the pencil?"

I gave her the pencil and a sheet of paper, and settled her in a
chair.

"B-a-b-y," said Margery to herself, planning out her weekly article
for the Reviews. "B-a-b-y, baby." She squared her elbows and began
to write....

"There!" she said, after five minutes' composition.