"Not to see unbroken dogs put their muddy paws all over the greatest language in the world," she retorted.
"Dear me, dear me," I returned, with soothing deprecation, for she was plainly very much incensed, "then what did you come for?"
"Oh, for reasons," she returned evasively.
Doubts that I could not define began suddenly to fill my mind, and I said to her, "Didn't you write about Shakespeare?"
"A college joke," she answered contemptuously. "I'm writing a poem now. I shall call it, 'How we brought the Good Spelling from Ghent to Aix.'"
"Then you don't believe in the Higher Spelling?" I asked.
"No!" she declared, with defiance.
"Does Professor Willows?" I pursued.
"Hadn't you better ask him about that?" she replied.