September 19, 1912 - Thursday

19. Haven't had time to write for an age. High School is a strenuous proposition. Why! I actually have to study. It's outrageous. Don drifted into Mahoney's this evening and I was glad I'd put on my white dress as I'd hate to have him see me looking as I usually do, i.e. like an abandoned pig. He seemed to be in a very good humor but I couldn't say the same of Dan. I think he's still mad at Don. We loafed around for some time and then I announced my firm determination to sail for home, and went, escorted by the Ds probably as a sort of Thanksgiving offering at getting rid of me.