“Are you going to tell me about them?”

Lizzie said almost nothing as I recounted my day. When I mentioned Old Tom, her hand sought the crucifix. I didn’t tell her about Tilda’s whiskey, but I made sure to say I drank lemonade.

“They’ll be in rehearsals for a few weeks,” I said. “I thought we could go together when the play opens.”

“We’ll see,” said Lizzie. Then she cleared the table.

Before going back to the Scriptorium, I climbed the stairs to her room and added Bill and Tilda’s words to the trunk.

The Bodleian Library was just minutes from New Theatre, so every request to find a word or verify a quotation became an opportunity to visit Bill and Tilda in rehearsals. My enthusiasm for these errands did not go unnoticed.

“Where to this morning, Esme?” Mr. Sweatman was walking his bicycle towards the Scriptorium as I was getting ready to ride off.

“The Bodleian.”

“But this is the third time in as many days.”

“Dr. Murray is in search of a quotation, and it is my job to hunt it down,” I said. “It is also my pleasure—I love the Library.”

Mr. Sweatman looked at the iron walls of the Scriptorium. “Yes, I can see why you would. And what is the word, may I ask?”

“Suffrage,” I said.

“An important word.”

I smiled. “They are all important, Mr. Sweatman.”

“Of course, but some mean more than we might imagine,” he said. “I sometimes fear the Dictionary will fall short.”

“How could it not?” I forgot I was in a hurry. “Words are like stories, don’t you think, Mr. Sweatman? They change as they are passed from mouth to mouth; their meanings stretch or truncate to fit what needs to be said. The Dictionary can’t possibly capture every variation, especially since so many have never been written down—” I stopped, suddenly shy.

Mr. Sweatman’s smile was broad, but not mocking. “You have an excellent point, Esme. And if you don’t mind me saying, you are beginning to sound like a lexicographer.”

I rode as fast as I could along Parks Road and arrived at the Bodleian in record time. Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England was easy to find. I took it to the nearest desk and looked at the three slips Dr. Murray wanted me to check. They each had the same quotation, more or less (it is the more or less that I need you to verify, Dr. Murray had said).

I found the page, scanned it, ran my finger along the sentence and checked each quotation against it. They were each missing a word or two. A good day at the Library, I thought, as I drew a line through what the volunteers had written. As much as I wanted to be on my way, I took care to transcribe the correct quotation onto a clean slip.