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Updated: May 11, 2025
When the inkstand and the pen were again alone, the latter said, "Well, madam, you heard him read aloud what I had written." "Yes, what I gave you to write," said the inkstand. "It was a hit at you for your conceit. Strange that you cannot see that people make a fool of you! I gave you that hit pretty cleverly. I confess, though, it was rather malicious." "Ink-holder!" cried the pen.
As a petty grievance, my ink-holder broke loose in the case, and spilt some of the ink on Anne's pelisse. Misfortunes seldom come single. "'Tis not alone the inky cloak, good daughter," but I forgot at Garstang my two breastpins; one with Walter and Jane's hair, another a harp of pure Irish gold, the gift of the ladies of Llangollen. April 5. Breakfasted at Chorley, and slept at Leek.
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