A few helpfull Deeds--nothing worth putting down.


JANUARY 9TH. Boil cut.

Again I can face my Image in my mirror, and not shrink.

Mademoiselle is sick and no French. MISERICORDE!

Helpfull Deed--sent Mademoiselle some fudge, but this school does not
encourage kindness. Reprimanded for cooking in room. School sympathises
with me. We will go to Miss Everett's couzin's play, but we will dam it
with faint praise.


JANUARY 10TH. I have written this Date, and now I sit back and regard
it. As it is impressed on this white paper, so, Dear Dairy, is it
written on my Soul. To others it may be but the tenth of January. To me
it is the day of days. Oh, tenth of January! Oh, Monday. Oh, day of my
awakning!

It is now late at night, and around me my schoolmates are sleeping the
sleep of the young and Heart free. Lights being off, I am writing by the
faint luminocity of a candle. Propped up in bed, my mackinaw coat over
my ROBE DE NUIT for warmth, I sit and dream. And as I dream I still hear
in my ears his final words: "My darling. My woman!"

How wonderfull to have them said to one Night after Night, the while
being in his embrase, his tender arms around one! I refer to the heroine