She did not help me.
"Last week I read an editorial in your paper which amused—interested—me very much. It was headed 'Fudge,' The writer plainly doesn't believe either in flying machines or in Democrats."
I heard Fergus bark behind me.
"He's going to thrash the writer," said Fergus.
Anthy glanced swiftly across at Fergus. It occurred to me in a flash:
"Why, she wrote it!"
The sudden thought of the chin whiskers I had fastened upon the imaginary writer was too much for me, and I laughed outright.
"Well," said I, "I shall not attempt any extreme measures until I try, at least, to convert her."
I saw now that I had said something really amusing, for Fergus barked twice behind me and Anthy broke into the liveliest laughter.
"You don't really think I wrote it?" she inquired in the roundest astonishment, with one hand on her breast.