Katie was writing to her uncle the Bishop.

At least that was what she would have said she was doing.

To be literal, she was nibbling at the end of her pen.
Writing to her uncle had never been a solemn affair with Kate.

She gossiped and jested with him quite as she would with a playfellow; it was playfellow, rather than spiritual adviser, he had always been to her, Kate's need seeming rather more for playfellows than for spiritual advisers.

But the trouble that morning was that the things of which she was wont to gossip and jest seemed remote and uninteresting things.
Finally she wrote: "My friend Ann Forrest is with us now.