January 26, 1913 - Sunday

26 - Stayed at Mahoney's all day, with Dan and Mae. Mae went to sleep in the afternoon with her head resting on the table. Dan bending over her in a rather suggestive affectionate manner, I said, "I stump you." He was stumped, poor nut. He now is an I. A. T. (Isn't all there), a T. H. S. (Tin Horn Sport), and S. N. Y. (Snubnosed Youth).

Alas! My courage's vacation proved permanent. I did not telephone to Don. I'm really rather glad I didn't as he probably would have thought me utterly devoid of proper pride, and the chances are he'd be going out somewhere anyway. Dan saw him this morning. Lucky Dan. I wonder if Don asked about me. Dan was too mean to tell me and I wouldn't ask. I think he told Mae, though. I played checkers with Ruth to-night, and even that made me think of Don, and I got as blue as indigo. He and I used to have such good times when the Dibbles kept this house. I wonder what changed Don so! Could Dan have done it by some indiscreet remark?

Mae, Dan and I made such a racket that D. was exiled from his native heath, so to speak. He was told to go upstairs, but instead, we all went for a walk. We wanted to make penuche in Mae's room, but her pa was there. Ah, well! 'tis a sad, sad world, but for all that, my bed lures me from this book and I must go, or I'll not wake up 'till about twelve to-morrow.

O, piffle, how I do wish I could see Don! I cried, like the poor boob I am, when I got to bed, but I feel so gloomy that I could bust. Hope I haven't made my nose red, but fear I have.