February 28, 1913 - Friday

28 - Was in luck to-day. I had to work pretty hard all day (No, Gwendolyn, that was not the lucky part) but got off easy in the matter of homework. It was this way: My teacher, Miss Bartlett is only about 20, and, towards the end of school, she was chatting gaily and making dates with two of the older boys. I went to her and asked what I should do for homework. She replied that I was to "do some word signs or something, anything." Oh joy! What a pipe! And it's Friday too. Peg and Mrs. Lincoln called and took me to the "Empire" with them. Had very good time.

February 27, 1913 - Thursday

27 - Was very wicked to-night; I wanted some excitement so I tried to see how near to the point of being indecorous I could bring Dan and still keep him from being indecorous. I succeeded "not wisely, but too well" for I got him there easily enough by judicious teasing, but couldn't stop him, then. I am glad Mae was not there anyway. Mae sent Dan a note, at breakfast this morning. She put C. Y. F. W. (which means "Consider yourself flirted with) on the back, but, as she made it up, he's not apt to guess it. I wonder if she "considers" him so!

February 26, 1913 - Wednesday

26 - Nothing much doing all day but work. Came home right after school, but at five Mae called me up, and asked me to come over to the House of Mahoney, so I went. After supper Miss Brown came in and announced that she had come to hear Dan play, so he had to, while we all stood around and competed for his goat. Went home with Muz. Was very tired.

February 25, 1913 - Tuesday

25 - Played hookey with Mae. Muz found out, had 2000 fits, and, for a time, family relations were somewhat strained. Mae told me that Bonnie Babcock (me hated rival) washere, or rather there, at mae's house for quite awhile on the 24^th. Also that Bonnie has "changed her mind about Pit," which means, in plain English that she's going to get him crazy about her again. Oh, well! If it's so easy for her as all that I don't think it would do me much good if I did anything about it, which I couldn't anyway. I'm anxious to know if she works it. She's just going to write to him and do the trick that way. Very simple, Watson!

Well, cheer up, it will do me some good, anyhow, as Don will see that my telling about his diary didn't injure him with the object of his affections. I don't feel quite so weepy as I might over this sad, sad news. I have fits of being perfectly crazy about him (Don) but in between whiles I'm fairly sane & normal. This is an "in-between-time" as I had my fits of craziness a few days ago (Feb. 20). Perhaps, when B.B. crooks her finger to Don & he meekly follows her, as she takes it for granted he will, I shall weep. At any rate, I should worry!

February 24, 1913 - Monday

24 - Did not loaf to any extent in school to-day. I worked every minute of the day, and then some! Went to lunch and saw Dan, who has forgotten his grouch. By carefully refraining from asking any questions, I found out that Don also saw me go through by the Cathedral yesterday, so I suppose that he thinks what Dan does, or pretends to, i. e. that I went through just to see Don. Oh, well! Let them think! I don't just know why I did do it, but I certainly had no hope of seeing Donald.

By the way, Ester Wells called me up last night and asked me to help her wait on table at the the Y.W.C.A. to-day. I murmured a shy "Yas", as I really hadn't the crust, nor the necessary inventive ability to refuse again. This is the 3rd time that she's asked me, since I was last there.

Went to the Y. W.C.A. but did not arrive until 6.25. However, it was all right. I met Ester and another girl (Catherine Somebody-or-other) and we began to set the table for some Club that was to dine there that night. I went in and served them (the clubbers). They were so close to-gether that I had to rest the tray on their shoulders each time. We did not do so much, however, as we retired after about half-an-hour to another room and had a gay old time. We had our dinner, and packs of fun, in the room all by our lonesomes. Went home at about 8.30 and found that Muz had brought me some sandwiches and soup from Mahoney's.

February 23, 1913 - Sunday

23 - Stayed at Mahoney's part of A.M., and at Mae's, half. Went to S.S. (Sunday School) in P.M. Told Miss Down I had an important engagement, so wanted to go at 3³⁰. She acquiesced rather doubtfully, and I went to Asylum Ave. and up by the Cathedral. Met Mae coming out of her house and we went to Mahoney's together. Dan was not in, having gone, as Mae told me, to Don's. I hope he did not see me going past Don's house, or he might find food for some teasing, although I just passed quickly through to F. Ave. without more than a look at the Pit. house. Mae and I stayed at Mahoney's about half-an-hour, then I went home. Muz rode up on the car with Don the other day and she says he looks fierce! I wonder, if I saw him again (I haven't for more than three and a half mo.) would I lose my crush on him? (as "Pam" did, in "Pam Decides") Very "morantic", but I've seen Don when there were much better looking boys around, and my ardor has anything but abated; so I guess it's no use trying to shake the crush. Besides, it's rather interesting and gives me food for thought, so I'm not so sure I want to!

Dan acted eccentric, to say the least, tonight. He came in to supper while I was there, replied to my remarks with curt monosyllables ,and finally sprang up from the table and went into the parlor. When I finished supper, I went in and, as he was playing "Goodbye to Summer," I came in without attracting his attention, and sat down. He was breathing so deeply that it sound like sobbing and that, coupled with the facts that he was playing"Goodbye to Summer" and that he heard not long ago that "Clara" was ill leads me to think she must be worse. He finished playing, and, seeing me, asked abruptly how I "Got here". Stifling a desire to tell him I oozed up between the boards of the floor, I said I came in from supper. He then clumped out of the room. Went home with Muz about 5 minutes later, as I hope I know how to take a hint that is literally a kick. Played with Ruth and Norma awhile, till 8³⁰, in fact.

P.S. I found out at supper, by no questions, either that Dan did see me cut through by the Cathedral. So much for luck!

February 22, 1913 - Saturday

22 - Again missed Art School owing to loss of specs. Hooked Dan's diary after breakfast. It was lying on the sewing-machine. All of interest was an intimation that he was stuck on Mae. Knew that, anyhow. He came home while I was locked in with the diary, and probably missed it. I'm in for it, now. It's a wonder Dan was not "smit" sooner. He can't have a girl around long before he is, generally. All's fish, so to speak, that comes to his net, or to whose net he comes.

Later - When I went to lunch all was serene, so I am forced to the amazing conclusion that he doesn't know of my crime or, knowing, cares not. Shades of Georgie! (whose birthday it is, by the way) What luck!

Another "Futurist" Picture Done on Feb. 22.

D.F.M. in a state of victory

and righteous indignation.

Me in a state of coma.

Went to Mae's in afternoon. Stayed at Mrs. Mahoney's till Curfew to-night, then went home and spun yarns for Ruth and Norma. Emma (Mrs. Monroe's girl) let Chrissy out of his cage when I was in the other room and the light was burning! I certainly was scared, but I managed to coax him into his cage.

February 21, 1913 - Friday

21 - Went to Mae's after school and stayed till supper time. After supper I stayed at Mrs. Mahoney's, but she called Dan out and seemed to be scolding him about something. I caught the words, "Marjorie James," so I did the Arab act, my coat representing my tent. Walked up F. Ave. and through to A. Ave. by the Cathedral, but, of course, saw nothing of Pit. Hardly expected to. I just walk through that way to gaze mournfully (and sickeningly) at the Pitblado house, I guess. At least, that's all I do.

February 20, 1913 - Thursday

20 - Caught up with the advance class which is having a review. Did not stay till Curfew, even, as Mrs. M. told Dan to come to the telephone, "if they can spare you that long." Spare him! Words fail me.

Mae's "Roman parent" gave her an electric flat-iron, a dandy one! She left the directions for using it here, and came back for them at about 9. We sat in the parlor a long while afterwards and I told her I was still crazy about Don. She was very dear and sympathetic. I have an idea (don't start, dear reader, I'm often taken that way) that I'm a fool to parade my sickly sentimentality, even before Mae, but it seems pretty real to me just now, though later I'll probably laugh at my desperate case of unrequited passion. Just now, however, I don't laugh. Sometimes I weep about it, but the "funny side" has not yet obtruded itself on my sight. The humor of even the most humorous (of which I'm not one) is strangely un-keen on the subject of their love affairs.

February 19, 1913 - Wednesday

19 - Mae wrote to Bonny Babcock and told her what I had told her (Mae) about Don's diary. I had told in a sort of offhand way, as if I didn't care a snap, how Don used to be in love with Bonnie. I just did it to let Mae think that I had no personal feeling about it. Bonnie wrote to Don about it and I suppose he just loves me for telling, though I never said I wouldn't. I heard all this from Dan who was at Don's last night. Talk about sieves! Mae is next to the worst I ever saw (myself being the worst).

The girl who sits at my desk part of the time at school is certainly training to be a sure-enough stenographer. She chews gum by the lb. and leaves it all over. When I found the forty 'leventh piece hermetically sealing my table drawer, so that I had to use a knife to pry it open, I got peevish. She opens my drawer and sticks the gum on the top. I patiently peeled it of with my knife and then hung a little sigh ("Post no Gum.") right where she could see it if she opened the desk. She did see it all right, for when I came back I found a post-script added to my sign, "Nothing the matter with you," and a fresh wad of gum. I underlined the no in my sign and added "this means you". That should hold her. Miss Bartlett told Miss Sherman of a little sarcasm I passed on our few-and-far-between pencils. Let us hope the day of my artless confidences is almost past.

Dan felt extra gay and Mae, very glum to-night. I felt in between, with a slight leaning toward glumity. Played checkers with Ruth when I got home, but it wasn't very exciting. She's too easy to beat. Told Ruth and Norma a fairy story before bed.

February 18, 1913 - Tuesday

18 - Dreamt about Don last night, and it was one spiffy dream! Some cheeky person in school (this is not a dream) swiped my knife and hung it over Miss Sherman's desk. Evidently the students at Morse's have heard of Damocles.

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The 'Sword of Damocles' is a moral anecdote about a Damocles being granted a time on King Dionysius' throne - but under a sword held up by only a hair. As Cicero wrote in Tusculan Disputations: "Does not Dionysius seem to have made it sufficiently clear that there can be nothing happy for the person over whom some fear always looms?" See wikipedia for details.

February 17, 1913 - Monday

17 - An Indian, Dr. Eastman, formerly chief of the Sioux Tribe, but now a professor and lecturer, spoke to us in school to-day. He was not in native costume (as pictured above), but one must make allowance for artistic license. He spoke rather broken English, and my sole impression of his looks is a regular T. R. smile. I do beleive the man had 1000 teeth! but he was very interesting.

Overstayed Curfew fifteen minutes. Must make it up tomorrow.

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beleive - sic

Dr. Eastman is most likely Charles Eastman. Visit wikipedia or World Wisdom for more information.

(picture from wikipedia)

February 16, 1913 - Sunday

16 - Went to Sunday School, thereby startling several persons nearly into fits. Some youngsteres were pelting the church - and - sunday school - goers into the church with snowballs, and a reverend gentleman, who shall be nameless between us, called out, "Quit snowballing those kids, now. Cut it out." Alas, that such should be thus!

Only stayed at Mrs. Mahoney's till nearly eight, owing to "curfew."

February 15, 1913 - Saturday

15 - Went to Dr. Little's and made an appointment for three weeks from to-day. Shades of my aching jaw, and also of the Spanish Inquisition! I hope he won't more than murder me. Of course, I couldn't go to drawing class, as I've lost my specs, alas!

I went to Mae's in the afternoon. She tried to show me how to do up my hair (see illustration above) but it was a rank failure. To account for the noble work of art on the preceding page: Mae wouldn't let me kiss her. I said I didn't want to anyhow. Whereupon she replied "sour grapes." She came home with me after supper and stayed till Muz came home.

February 14, 1913 - Friday

(14) - Got seven valentines and a cold. The former were sent by Mae, Muz, Ruth, Mr. Culver, Bess and Helen Dibble and two personas who apparently prefer to "blush unseen" The latter was caused by (or so I imagine) the decided frost (or was it heat? Anyway it was one extreme or other) observable on the part of Miss Sherman when that dame caught me sharpening the red-lead pencils on our stenography table.

Read with Ruth till it was time to go to bed.

I am going to write an elaborate fairy story. I have the plan for it all thought out; and it will be more interesting (not to speak of the war and tear on my cerebrial region saved) if I make it up at my leisure and read it to Ruth & Norma instead of "making it up" as I go along, as I usually do.

February 13, 1913 - Thursday

13 - The one word "frost" explains Mae's general attitude these days, and as a freezer she is great! The blight of her displeasure falls alike on Dan and my humble and, as far as I can see unoffending self, so I suppose said displeasure is caused by what Dan terms with the rare delicacy every prominent in youths of his age, "the Scandal in Bohemia." I should worry, and produce wrinkles in my alabaster be-row!

Had to take a test on word signs twice as I am supposed to get about 95, and I only got 85 the first time.

Harriet asked me to come over to her house and then called me up, just at supper, to tell me she had to go to Milly Daniel's and would I postpone my visit to next week? I will, and then some. Tell that little fable to the Marines and the little fishes, Hatty dear!

February 12, 1913 - Wednesday

12 - Mrs. Mahoney has installed an 8 oclock curfew. To be more explicit she has told Mae and me that we must go home at eight. As Mae so aptly remarks, it is too bad that we didn't get out before we were kicked out.

"Curfew shall not ring to-night."

February 11, 1913 - Tuesday

11 - Got myself into a nice mess yesterday. Mae told Dan what I told her, and he seemed to imagine that I was boasting. Boasting!?@*@!!!?

And he actually had the crust to lecture me all the way home. Another lesson learned (See a few pages back for the first one) It's better, though, to make a few awful blunders while I'm young, then avoid them later, when they will be more inexcusable. Too bad Mae had to shoot off her mouth, but I'll know better next time, and I suppose it was hard for her to let that chance for teasing slip by.

February 10, 1913 - Monday

10 - Dan told Mae some cock-and-bull story about having been trying to bite my nose last night. However, as I thought she suspected anyway, I told her the truth about it. I'm glad Dan told her a fish story, as I would not have thought much of him otherwise. Mae played hookey. I took a test on third place vowels to-day.

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An example of third place vowels in stenography can be found here.

February 9, 1913 - Sunday

9 - Went to sunday school today. Dan was decididly indecorous after supper and mae was in the room all the while, studying. Since I've made up with Dan he's told me that what he said about Don was not true so I take back all I said (which I didn't half mean anyhow) However, I'm going to cut out all, or nearly all, mush (for Lent)

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decididly - sic

February 8, 1913 - Saturday

8 - Did not go to drawing class but stayed at Mrs. Mahoney's.

February 7, 1913 - Friday

7 - Did not go to school at all. Stayed in bed all day.

February 6, 1913 - Thursday

6 - Did not go to school in P. M. as I couldn't do anything but sneeze anyhow.

February 5, 1913 - Wednesday

5 - Was called down to the office at school and found papa there. Was let off and stayed with him till his train went. He gave me thirty cents. Went to Mae's and made penuche, which we couldn't eat after all, as we discovered some pre-chewed Spearmint gun floating in it. As neither Mae nor I chew, it must have been in the sugar. Wrote a note of apology to Dan for having called him a liar, as it was very uncomfortable living (or rather eating) with someone who's mad at you. Besides, I like Dan. Went home and had a boiling bath, for first time in weeks I guess. Have a dreadful cold.

February 3, 1913 - Monday

3 - Went to Simmon's after school, and got a new pair of shoes. Stayed with Mae, at Mahoney's, till nearly ten. We swiped some books and I read while she studied.

February 2, 1913 - Sunday

2 - Woke up just in time to get to my breakfast at all. Took Muz hers. Stayed at Mahoney's nearly all day. At supper Dan thought he'd be smart, so he began telling me all the things I didn't do when Donald was there last supper summer, only he said I did do them. Such as gazing soulfully into his (Don's) eyes and sitting on the arm of his chair. In fact, he made me out about as forward a young person as possible. I wouldn't have cared so much if he'd stopped it when Mae came in, but he didn't. Little liar! how he did tear my character to pieces!

After dinner I went into the parlor and hid behind the piano. I know it was a mean thing to do, but I don't care. After awhile Dan and Mae came in and Mae asked if what he'd said about me was true. He had the decency to tell the truth about that. He said "No." Then he obligingly went on to relate that I had been crazy about Don and, moreover, was still crazy about him. Muz came in, so I came out. It would have been all right if de-ar (?) little Daniel had not seen fit to keep up the cute little joke. He added frills and ribbons, not to mention embroidery, to his former statements. I told him that he was a direct descendent of Ananias, but no relation whatever to G. Washington. In other words, I implied that his bump of veracity was imperfectly developed. To be frank, I called him a liar. Not wishing to cheat me of my just due, he remarked that Donald had known all along that I was stuck on him. He then pleasantly added that the aforesaid young man was to be at Mahoney's this evening, in which case he (Dan) would dare the A. Y. M. (see above) to do that for which I had schemed in vain last summer (i. e. to kiss me) Oh! how I do hate them both! How they must have laughed at me, poor little fool that I was!

TO LET! A fine heart. Slightly damaged, but a great bargain. NOW.

I could forgive Dan, but Donald _______. If Dan's work is good for anything, I couldn't think too little of him! I hate them both, but I hate my fool, fool self a thousand times more. The worst of it is that the whole thing is my fault. I could have prevented all this, if I had had any brains. Brains?? No, mere animal sense, if used in even a small quantity, would have done. I can't see now, though, that I did anything criminal. True, to be frank, I fell in love (as such I see it now, though later I may think of it only as a calf-brained pieces of folly) with a boy who tolerated me as a "very attractive girl; ninth-grade, grammar school, though." It wasn't my fault he found out. Slush? I just guess I won't write any more slush in this book, even if this is the month for it. I've had a lesson that I shan't forget in a hurry. I shall however, leave the slush I've already written, as well as his picture and card, in here to remind me that I am a fool, and also, that I must never, never, never feel anything warmer than tolerating friendship for a boy again. If I don't profit by this lesson, I deserve all that's coming to me.

Went home about 7.30. Mad!!! Well, I guess I was! Anyone, who says "Don" to me; had better look out.

February 1, 1913 - Saturday

1 - Am still under the weather so did not go to Art class today. Stayed with Dan and Mae all day. Dan went to Dancing Class in the evening, but said that Don was coming over. I didn't more than half believe it anyhow, and I was right. I wish he would come, but I don't want Dan to make any stupid jokes and dares, if he does.


Mae came home with me and I showed her the pictures in my diary. Of course, her eye caught the part where Dan kissed me, and, though she was very nice about it, I am sure I don't know what she thought of me. I wasn't my fault, though. Little did I know about it before it happened, and he'd promised not to ever touch me at that! It only shows how much you can trust a boy you don't want to, to do it.

I must be extra mushy in this number, as it's the Valentine one. So here's an extra good beginning: - I wish, wish, wish I could see Don. If he would only come! Sometimes I think how it would feel if he were in love with me. Fat Chance, to return to the prosaic.