Of Course It's All Right For Librarians

[the Woman] Paused And Seemed To Take A Deep Breath. 'you See,' She Declared. 'i Am Tom Mallow's Aunt.' Catherine's First Instinct Was To Burst Out Laughing. She Wondered Why There Was Something Slightly Absurd About Aunts; Perhaps It Was Because One Thought Of Them As Dear, Comfortable Creatures, Somehow Lacking In Dignity And Prestige.

I Imagine The Proverb About Too Many Cooks Spoiling The Broth Can Be Applied To Writing As Well As Anything Else. The Poetical Or Literary Broth Is Better Cooked By One Person.

The Small Things Of Life Were Often So Much Bigger Than The Great Things . . . The Trivial Pleasure Like Cooking, One's Home, Little Poems Especially Sad Ones, Solitary Walks, Funny Things Seen And Overheard.

Perhaps There Can Be Too Much Making Of Cups Of Tea, I Thought, As I Watched Miss Statham Filling The Heavy Teapot. Did We Really Need A Cup Of Tea? I Even Said As Much To Miss Statham And She Looked At Me With A Hurt, Almost Angry Look, 'do We Need Tea? She Echoed. 'but Miss Lathbury...' She Sounded Puzzled And Distressed And I Began To Realise That My Question Had Struck At Something Deep And Fundamental. It Was The Kind Of Question That Starts A Landslide In The Mind. I Mumbled Something About Making A Joke And That Of Course One Needed Tea Always, At Every Hour Of The Day Or Night.

I Was So Astonished That I Could Think Of Nothing To Say, But Wondered Irrelevantly If I Was To Be Caught With A Teapot In My Hand On Every Dramatic Occasion.