Ms. Macy,

If you’re wondering where you left your journal, you left it with me. I’ll admit to reading some of it; I’m impressed by your knowledge and expertise, given your circumstances.

I recognize that you’re a very intelligent girl. Considering that there’s little in Henshaw that appeals to curiosity or intellect, I suppose you’re also very bored. I must be the first interesting thing that’s come your way in a long time. I also believe that you knew of my craft before I arrived, and that I represent the solution to a number of riddles you’ve been trying to solve. So of course you stalk me and question me and badger me in the hopes of getting a peek, of learning what you need to know.

I understand. I was young once too. But I have neither the desire nor leniency to be studied like an insect, not when the town at large is so…reluctant.

I’ve presented the possibility of tutoring you to your father, who was ambivalent at best. I have no desire to anger the man under whose auspices I am allowed to work here. But I can show you a few things to slake your curiosity, assuming you can keep a secret. Maybe we can talk a bit about books as well; I’ve missed that kind of discussion. In return, I insist on my privacy and I insist on more caution on your part. Frog mucus is not the worst outcome of meddling in my work environment.

Further rules and boundaries will be set as needed. Leave your reply in the old oak to the south of town.