What must it be to thrill at the aproach of the loved Form?
To harken to each ring of the telephone bell, in the hope that,
if it is not the Idolised Voice, it is at least a message from
it? To waken in the morning and, looking around the familiar
room, to muze: "Today I may see him--on the way to the Post
Office, or rushing past in his racing car." And to know that at
the same moment _he_ to is muzing: "Today I may see her, as she
exercises herself at basket ball, or mounts her horse for a
daily canter!"
Although I have no horse. The school does not care for
them, considering walking the best exercise.
Have flunked the French again, Mademoiselle not feeling
well, and marking off for the smallest Thing.
Today's helpfull Deed--asisted one of the younger girls
with her spelling.
JANUARY 4TH. Miss Everett's couzin's play is coming here.
The school is to have free tickets, as they are "trying it on
the dog." Which means seeing if it is good enough for the large
cities.
We have desided, if Everett marks us well in English from
now on, to aplaud it, but if she is unpleasent, to sit still and
show no interest.
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