ey.

He was standing by the fireplace when I went in, and looked very
tired. When he heard me he turned his head and our eyes met.

All at once a terrible thing happened ... at least, I thought it a
terrible thing then. _I knew why I had wanted Sidney to realize that
I was no longer a child._ It was because I loved him! I knew it the
moment I saw that strange, new expression leap into his eyes.

"Cornelia," he said in a stunned sort of voice. "Why ... Nic ... why,
little girl ... you're a woman! How blind I've been! And now I've lost
my little chum."

"Oh, no, no," I said wildly. I was so miserable and confused I didn't
know what I said. "Never, Sidney. I'd rather be a little girl and have
you for a friend ... I'll always be a little girl! It's all this
hateful dress. I'll go and take it off ... I'll...."

And then I just put my hands up to my burning face and the tears that
would never come before came in a flood.

All at once I felt Sidney's arms about me and felt my head drawn to
his shoulder.

"Don't cry, dearest," I heard him say softly. "You can never be a
little girl to me again ... my eyes are opened ... but I didn't want
you to be. I want you to be my big girl ... mine, all mine, forever."

What happened after that isn't to be written in a diary. I won't even
write down the things he said about how I looked, because it would
seem so terribly vain, but I can't help thinking of them, for I am so
happy.

The Old Fellow's Letter

Ruggles and I were down on the Old Fellow. It doesn't matter why and,
since in a story of this kind we must tell the truth no matter what
happens--or else where is the use of writing a story at all?--I'll
have to confess that we had deserved all we got and that the Old
Fellow did no more than his duty by us. Both Ruggles and I see that
now, since we have had time to cool off, but at the moment we were in
a fearful wax at the Old Fellow and were bound to hatch up something
to get even with him.

Of course, the Old Fellow had another name, just as Ruggles has
another name. He is principal of the Frampton Academy--the Old Fellow,
not Ruggles--and his name is George Osborne. We have to call him Mr.
Osborne to his face, but he is the Old Fellow everywhere else. He is
quite old--thirty-six if he's a day, and whatever possessed Sylvia
Grant--but there, I'm getting ahead of my story.

Most of the Cads like the Old Fellow. Even Ruggles and I like him on
the average. The girl