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.