Arsenic and Old Books by Miranda James

issues with the condition.
    These problems stemmed largely from the ink. The standard ink used at the time was iron gall, or oak gall, ink, made from a combination of iron salts, tannic acids, and vegetable matter. The latter tended to be the galls, formed by wasps that infested oak trees and caused the plant tissue to swell. The resulting ink is acidic and sometimes caused so-called ghost writing on the obverse side of the writing surface, usually vellum or paper.
    Iron gall ink, due to the ease of its composition and its durability, had been in use since at least the early fourth century A.D. One of the earliest—and vaguest—recipes, I recalled, came from Pliny the Elder, who lived during the first century A.D. I had seen medieval English manuscripts written in this ink, and the clarity of the writing, even after several centuries, amazed me.
    In addition to some of the ghost writing, I saw the occasional hole in the paper where the ink had eaten through. Overall, I concluded, the paper was in remarkably good condition, despite the fact that the diaries had been stored in an attic without significant temperature control. The ravages of unchecked humidity could be extensive, but somehow this volume had escaped them.
    As long as the other three volumes were in similar condition to this one, there should be no problem with scanning or photographing the pages. Having them digitized would cut down on the necessity of handling the originals and thereby would help conserve them.
    For the next two hours I pored over all four volumes to check the condition of each. I had to resist the lure of reading the diaries, though I did indulge myself and read the occasional brief passage. The first volume was filled with details about parties and the social whirl in 1850s Athena. Evidently Rachel Afton found herself in demand for various events, with a handful of young suitors vying for her companionship. In the bits I read she came across as modest, noting once with sharp wit that “no doubt Father’s extensive holdings in the Delta enhance my appearance and charm” for the less well-heeled young men chasing her.
    By the time I finished the final volume I discovered I was hungry, Azalea’s big breakfast notwithstanding. Diesel slept throughout the time I worked, but when I stood up his eyes opened. He yawned and stretched on the windowsill.
    â€œI’m ready for lunch, boy. How about you?” I stretched my back in imitation of the cat. I felt stiff and cramped. I should have taken a break or two to stretch earlier, but I was so engrossed in my work I didn’t stop.
    â€œLet’s go see Helen Louise.” I retrieved the harness and leash, and Diesel jumped down from window and trotted over to me. “We’ll have to go home and get the car because I don’t feel like walking to the bakery in the midday heat.”
    Diesel warbled, as if he understood and agreed. After a brisk walk home to retrieve the car, we headed for the center of Athena and the town square.
    I found a parking place near the bakery, and Diesel and I headed down the sidewalk. Diesel loved Helen Louise, and he knew there would be chicken to eat. He walked fast and tugged on the leash, eager to get inside.
    Newcomers to Helen Louise’s bakery sometimes looked askance at a large cat walking in as if he owned the place, but Diesel knew his corner and went straight toward it. Helen Louise had had a lengthy chat with the health inspector, who, ever since, had turned a deaf ear to protests. This was the kind of thing that could happen in a small town like Athena, and Diesel was so popular with most people, anyone offended by his presence took his or her business elsewhere.
    As I followed Diesel to our corner I noticed a cluster of several people at the cash register. The tallest, a young man, chatted with Helen Louise. She had not yet spotted Diesel and me because she appeared to be engrossed in the conversation. When I sat, at a