"What--the bicycling girl?"

"Yes--Minora--imagine it!"

We stood and looked at each other with awestruck faces.

"How dreadful!" murmured Irais. "I never met a young girl
who did that before."

"She says this place is full of copy."
"Full of what? "

"That's what you make books with."

"Oh, my dear, this is worse than I expected! A strange girl is
always a bore among good friends, but one can generally manage her.
But a girl who writes books--why, it isn't respectable!
And you can't snub that sort of people; they're unsnubbable."

"Oh, but we'll try!" I cried, with such heartiness
that we both laughed.

The hall and the library struck Minora most; indeed, she
lingered so long after dinner in the hall, which is cold,
that the Man of Wrath put on his fur coat by way of a gentle hint.
His hints are always gentle.

She wanted to hear the whole story about the chapel and
the nuns and Gustavus Adolphus, and pulling out a fat note-book