But I'm not, for I am to live with Mother six months, then with
Father.

So I still have them both. And, really, when you come right down to
it, I'd _rather_ take them separate that way. Why, separate they're
just perfectly all right, like that--that--what-do-you-call-it
powder?--sedlitzer, or something like that. Anyhow, it's that white
powder that you mix in two glasses, and that looks just like water
till you put them together. And then, oh, my! such a fuss and fizz and
splutter! Well, it's that way with Father and Mother. It'll be lots
easier to take them separate, I know. For now I can be Mary six
months, then Marie six months, and not try to be them both all at
once, with maybe only five minutes between them.

And I think I shall love both Father and Mother better separate, too.
Of course I love Mother, and I know I'd just adore Father if he'd let
me--he's so tall and fine and splendid, when he's out among folks.
All the girls are simply crazy over him. And I am, too. Only, at
home--well, it's so hard to be Mary always. And you see, he named me
Mary--

But I mustn't tell that here. That's part of the story, and this
is only the Preface. I'm going to begin it to-morrow--the real
story--Chapter One.

But, there--I mustn't call it a "chapter" out loud. Diaries don't have
chapters, and this is a diary. I mustn't forget that it's a diary.
But I can write it down as a chapter, for it's _going to be_ a novel,
after it's got done being a diary.