she had done it only to save
herself the trouble of writing again; I'm sure that's not true. Dora
always says things like that simply to annoy me. But her sweet, her
divine letter, I carry it about with me wherever I go, and _her_
photograph too. She sent Hella only a card, naturally, for that was
all Hella had sent her. I can quite well fancy Frau Doktor M. as a
stepmother, that is, not quite well, but better than anyone else. She
wrote so sweetly about Mother, saying that of course I should find this
Christmas less happy than usual. She is certainly right there. We can
none of us feel as if the day after to-morrow is to be Christmas Eve.
The only thing that I really enjoy thinking of is the way Father will
stare when he sees the portrait. But really in the first years after
such a loss one ought not to keep Christmas, for on such days one feels
one's sadness more than ever.

December 23rd. I have still a frightful lot to do for Christmas, but I
must write to-day. There was a ring at the front door this morning at
about half past 11. I thought it must be Hella come to fetch me, that
she must be all right again, so I rushed out, tore the door open,
prepared to greet Hella, and then I was simply kerblunxed, for there was
a gentleman standing who asked most politely: Is anyone at home? I knew
him in a moment, it was that Dr. Pruckmuller from Fieberbr. Meanwhile
Dora had opened the drawing-room door, and now came the great proof of
deceitfulness: She was _not in the least_ surprised, but said: "Ah, Dr.
Pruckmuller, I am so glad you have kept your word." So it was plain that
he had promised her to come, and I am practically sure she knew he was
coming _to-day_, for she was wearing her best black silk apron with
the insertions, such as we only wear when visitors are expected. What a
humbug she is! So I went into the drawing-room too. Then Aunt Dora came
in and asked him to supper this evening. Then he went away. All the time
he had not said a word to me, it seemed as if he had not even noticed
that there was such a person as me in the world Not until he was
actually leaving did he say: "Well; Fraulein, how are you?" "Oh well,"
said I, "I'm much as anyone can expect to be so soon after Mother's
death." Dora got as red as fire, for she understood. I shall know how to
treat him _if_ he becomes my brother-in-law. But that may be a long way
off; for he lives in Innsbruck, and Father is not likely to allow Dora
to marry away to I