when Frau Oberst von Stary was there. Father noticed that time, for he
said: You little rogue, you tarradiddler!

September 3rd. Such a horrid thing has happened. I shall never speak to
R. again. Oswald is quite right in calling him a cad. If I had really
fallen out of the swing I might have broken my leg 4 days before we
have to start from home. I can't make out how it all happened. It was
frightful cheek of him to tickle me as he did, and I gave him such a
kick. I think it was on his nose or his mouth. Then he actually dared to
say: After all I'm well paid out, for what can one expect when one keeps
company with such young monkeys, with such babies. Fine talk from him
when he's not 14 himself yet. It was all humbug about his being 15 and
he seems to be one of the idlest boys in the school, never anything but
Satisfactory in his reports, and he's not in the fifth yet, but only in
the fourth. Anyhow, we've settled our accounts. Cheeky devil. I shall
never tell anyone about it, it will be my first and I hope my last
secret from Hella.

September 6th. We are going home to-morrow. The last few days have been
awfully dull. I saw R. once or twice but I always looked the other way.
Father asked what was wrong between me and the Warths and R., so that
our great friendship had been broken off. Of course I had to fib, for
it was absolutely _impossible_ to tell the truth. I said that R. found
fault with everything I did, my writing, my reading aloud. (That's quite
true, he did that once) and Father said: Well, well, you'll make it up
when you say goodbye to-morrow. Father makes a great mistake. I'll never
speak a word to him again.

For her birthday, although it's not come yet, Dora is to have a navy
blue silk dustcloak. I don't think the colour suits her, and anyhow