"Fraulein
Grete Lainer, Lyzealschulerin." Of course Dora had to know better than
anyone else, and said that in the higher classes from the fourth
upwards (because she is in the fourth) they write "Lyzeistin." She said:
"Anyhow, in the holidays, before a girl has attended the first class
she's not a Lyzealschulerin at all." Then Father chipped in, saying that
_we_ (_I_ didn't begin it) really must stop this eternal wrangling; he
really could not stand it. He's quite right, but what he said won't do
any good, for Dora will go on just the same. Fraulein Pruckl wrote that
she was _delighted_ that I had written. As soon as I have time she wants
me to write to her again. Great Scott, I've always time for _her_. I
shall write to her again this evening after supper, so as not to keep
her waiting.

July 29th. I simply could not write yesterday. The Warths have arrived,
and I had to spend the whole day with Erna and Liesel, although it
rained all day. We had a ripping time. They know a lot of round games
and we played for sweets. I won 47, and I gave five of them to Dora.
Robert is already more than a head taller than we are, I mean than
Liesel and me; I think he is fifteen. He says Fraulein Grete and carried
my cloak which Mother sent me because of the rain and he saw me home
after supper.

To-morrow is my birthday and everyone has been invited and Mother has
made strawberry cream and waffles. How spiffing.

July 30th. To-day is my birthday. Father gave me a splendid parasol
with a flowered border and painting materials and Mother gave me a huge
postcard album for 800 cards and stories for school girls, and Dora gave
me a beautiful box of notepaper and Mother had made a chocolate-cream
cake for dinner to-day as well as the strawberry cream. The first thing
in the morning the Warths sent me three birthday cards. And Robert had
written on his: With deepest _respect your faithful R_. It is glorious
to have a birthday, everyone is so kind, even Dora. Oswald sent me a
wooden paper-knife, the handle is a dragon and the blade shoots out
of its mouth instead of flame; or perhaps the blade is its tongue, one
can't be quite sure. It has not rained yet on my birthday. Father says I
was born under a lucky star. That suits me all right, tip top.

July 31st. Yesterday was heavenly. We laughed till our sides ached over
Consequences. I was always being coupled with Robert and oh the things
we did together, not really of course but only in w