it was black in the face; I got up and heated water and put the
hot-water bottle on its stomach, and it howled worse than ever and drew
up its poor wee thin legs. I was afraid I had burnt it but I don't
believe I did. Then I walked the floor with it although 'Morgan on
Infants' says that should never be done. I walked miles, and oh, I was
so tired and discouraged and mad--yes, I was. I could have shaken the
creature if it had been big enough to shake, but it wasn't. Father was
out on a case, and mother had had a headache and Susan is squiffy
because when she and Morgan differ I insist upon going by what Morgan
says, so I was determined I wouldn't call her unless I had to.

"Finally, Miss Oliver came in. She has rooms with Nan now, not me, all
because of the baby, and I am broken-hearted about it. I miss our long
talks after we went to bed, so much. It was the only time I ever had
her to myself. I hated to think the baby's yells had wakened her up,
for she has so much to bear now. Mr. Grant is at Valcartier, too, and
Miss Oliver feels it dreadfully, though she is splendid about it. She
thinks he will never come back and her eyes just break my heart--they
are so tragic. She said it wasn't the baby that woke her--she hadn't
been able to sleep because the Germans are so near Paris; she took the
little wretch and laid it flat on its stomach across her knee and
thumped its back gently a few times, and it stopped shrieking and went
right off to sleep and slept like a lamb the rest of the night. I
didn't--I was too worn out.

"I'm having a perfectly dreadful time getting the Junior Reds started.
I succeeded in getting Betty Mead as president, and I am secretary, but
they put Jen Vickers in as treasurer and I despise her. She is the sort
of girl who calls any clever, handsome, or distinguished people she
knows slightly by their first names--behind their backs. And she is sly
and two-faced. Una doesn't mind, of course. She is willing to do
anything that comes to hand and never minds whether she has an office
or not. She is just a perfect angel, while I am only angelic in spots
and demonic in other spots. I wish Walter would take a fancy to her,
but he never seems to think about her in that way, although I heard him
say once she was like a tea rose. She is too. And she gets imposed
upon, just because she is so sweet and willing; but I don't allow
people to impose on Rilla Blythe and 'that you may tie to,' as Susan
says.

"Just