mething or
tell her something. And when we go to bed we talk about her for such a
long time, and then I dream about her all night. Why should people die?
Or at least only quite old people, who no longer have anyone to care
about it. But a mother and a father ought never to die. The night after
Mother died Hella wanted me to come and stay with them, but I preferred
to stay at home; but late in the evening I did not dare to go into the
hall alone, so Dora went with me. Father had locked the door into the
drawing-room, where Mother was laid out, but all the same it was awfully
creepy. They did not call me on the 24th until after Mother was dead; I
should have so liked to see her once more. Good God, why should one die?
If only I had been called Berta after her; but she did not wish that
either of us should be called after her, nor did Father wish it in
Oswald's case.

May 19th. When Mother was buried, one thing made me frightfully angry
with Dora, at least not really angry but hurt, that _she_ should have
gone into church and come out of church with Father. For _I_ have always
gone with Father and Dora has always gone with Mother. And while poor
Mother was in hospital, Dora went with Aunt. But at the funeral Father
went with her, and I had to go with Aunt Dora. A few days later I spoke
to her about it, and she said it was quite natural because she is the
elder. She said that Oswald ought to have gone with me, that that would
have been the proper thing. But he went alone. Another thing that annoys
me is this; when Aunt Dora came here in the autumn, Dora and I sat on
the same side of the table at dinner and supper, and Aunt sat opposite
Mother, and when Mother took to her bed her place was left vacant. After
she died Oswald sat on the fourth side, and now for about a week Dora
has been sitting in Mother's place. I can't understand how Father can
allow it!

May 19th. At dinner to-day no one could eat anything. For we had breast
of veal, and we had had the same thing on the day of poor Mother's
funeral, and when the joint was brought in I happened to look at Dora
and saw that she was quite red and was sobbing frightfully. Then I could
not contain myself any more and said: "I can't eat any breast of veal,
for on Mother's burial day -- -- --," then I could not say any more, and
Father stood up and came round to me, and Dora and Aunt Dora burst out
crying too. And after dinner Aunt promised us that we should never have
breast o