Her knack of inventing substitutes when he had left some necessary article at home filled him with mild wonder.

He came to believe that her resources were unlimited; One morning, early in September, he forgot his memorandum book and pencil, and did not discover the fact until he was ready to note some measurements which he could not trust to memory.

It was no matter, she assured him cheerfully, as he stood peering helplessly around over his spectacles and slapping his pockets in vain.
"You know Lysander says, 'Where the lion's skin will not reach it must be pieced with the fox's,' I'll find some kind of a substitute for your pencil, somewhere." After a few moments' absence she came up the hill again with some broad sycamore leaves which she laid on a flat rock.

"There!" she exclaimed.
"You dictate, and I'll write on these leaves with a hair-pin.

Hazel Lee and I used to write notes on them by the hour, playing post-office back at the Wigwam." Several times during the dictation he looked at her as if about to make some personal remark, then changed his mind.