now quite an old cat who knows the way of the world herself, and
how things have to be, for she has had one batch of kittens
drowned already.

So perhaps it is not strange that my Thought Book seems so
babyish and foolish to me when I think of all I have gone through
and the millions of things I have learned, and how much better I
spell than I did ten months ago.

My fingers are cold through the mittens, so good-bye dear Thought
Book, friend of my childhood, now so far far behind me!

I will hide you in the haymow where you'll be warm and cosy all
the long winter and where nobody can find you again in the summer
time but your affectionate author,

Rebecca Rowena Randall.



Fourth Chronicle
A TRAGEDY IN MILLINERY

I

Emma Jane Perkins's new winter dress was a blue and green Scotch
plaid poplin, trimmed with narrow green velvet-ribbon and steel
nail-heads. She had a gray jacket of thick furry cloth with large
steel buttons up the front, a pair of green kid gloves, and a
gray felt hat with an encircling band of bright green feathers.