December 12, 1912 - Thursday

(12) - May had to get up at six this morning. She got a sick-pass at school and came home again, and we read nearly all morning. Went to Harriet's after school and stayed for quite a while. After supper, Dan asked May and me if we wanted "to go down and see the game". I don't know what game, or where but, as I am no true sport, I said "no". May went, but there was a fight between two of the boys at the game and Dan had to bring her home again. When she got home, she seemed to have received some information to my discredit. (I don't know from whom, and she wouldn't tell me either what it was or who told her.) It is a very strange coincidence, but whenever Dan and May are alone together for any length of time, May invariably knows more about me than she ever did before. Still, she says it's not Dan who told her the dread secret of my past. If I knew whom she'd seen to-night, I could pick out the little human news-paper, I bet. Oh, why, why, why did I ever let Dan see this diary my one and only piece of sentimental, slushy, blankety-blank foolishness? And Echo answers "because you couldn't help yourself". I let him see lots of it willingly, but I carefully kept that part, which made high rubber boots a necessity, away from his infant eyes, and, of course, that was the very part he pounced on when I wasn't looking. O, well, I'll finish his some day. I left off at the chapter devoted to the genus Pink Fairy. Dear me, I hope he hasn't moved my book-mark! Muz will probably be back to-morrow. My, but I'm glad. Poor Mae must be pretty tired of my company by now, as she has had it morning, night, and noon, for three days, not to mention nights.

Later - I have foully wronged the heir of the house of Mahoney. He hasn't been telling May anything about me. It was his aunt. She told Mae about the time I got on top of the Mahoney's barn to pick cherries. I thin kI told her, when she called to me to come down, that I had permission from Mrs. Mahoney. The way Mae heard it was this: I had shined up the cherry tree and, when told to get down, had basely turning and given "sass". Next person it gets to will probably be assured that I cut down the cherry tree and, when caught, instead of nobly crying, "I cannot tell a lie; I did it with my little hatchet". had turned murderously on the lady and assaulted her, dulling my ax on her head.