She considered, and began again. "Why not just ignore it? If some
one is playing a malicious trick on you, the only thing is to
ignore it."

Her hands were shaking, although her voice was quiet. I saw that
when she tried to tie the ribbons of the bag. And--I wondered at
this, in so gentle a soul--there was a hint of anger in her tones.
There was an edge to her voice.

That she could be angry was a surprise. And I found that she could
also be obstinate. For we came to an impasse over the telephone in
the next few minutes, and over something so absurd that I was
non-plussed. It was over her unqualified refusal to allow me to
install a branch wire to my bedroom.

"But," I expostulated, "when one thinks of the convenience, and--"

"I am sorry." Her voice had a note of finality. "I daresay I am
old-fashioned, but--I do not like changes. I shall have to ask you
not to interfere with the telephone."

I could hardly credit my senses. Her tone was one of reproof, plus
decision. It convicted me of an indiscretion. If I had asked to
take the roof off and replace it with silk umbrellas, it might have
been justified. But to a request to move the telephone!

"Of course, if you feel that way about it," I said, "I shall not
touch it."

I dropped the subject, a trifle ruffled, I confess, and went