fickle girl. Then he went away and
slammed the front door.

I cried all night, but today I went about the house singing. I would
not for the world let other people know how Walter has treated me. I
will hide my broken heart under a smiling face bravely. But, oh, I am
so miserable! Just as soon as I am old enough I mean to go away and be
a trained nurse. There is nothing else left in life for me. Sara does
not suspect that anything is wrong and I am so thankful she does not.
She would not understand.

September Sixth.

Today I read this journal over and thought I would burn it, it is so
silly. But on second thought I concluded to keep it as a reminder of
how blind and selfish I was and how good Sara is. For I am happy again
and everything is all right, thanks to Sara. The very day after our
quarrel Walter left Atwater. He did not have to return to college for
three weeks, but he went to visit some friends down in Charlotteville
and I heard--Mollie Roach told me--Mollie Roach was always wild about
Walter herself--that he was not coming back again, but would go right
on to Marlboro from Charlotteville. I smiled squarely at Mollie as if
I didn't care a particle, but I can't describe how I felt. I knew then
that I had really been hoping that something would happen in three
weeks to make our quarrel up. In a small place like Atwater people in
the same set can't help meeting. But Walter had gone and I should
never see him again, and what was worse I knew he didn't care or he
wouldn't have gone.

I bore it in silence for three weeks, but I will shudder to the end of
my life when I remember those three weeks. Night before last Sara came
up to my room where I was lying on my bed with my face in the pillow.
I wasn't crying--I couldn't cry. There was just a dreadful dull ache
in everything. Sara sat down on the rocker in front of the window and
the sunset light came in behind her and made a sort of nimbus round
her head, like a motherly saint's in a cathedral.

"Beatrice," she said gently, "I want to know what the trouble is. You
can't hide it from me that something is wrong. I've noticed it for
some time. You don't eat anything and you cry all night--oh, yes, I
know you do. What is it, dear?"

"Oh, Sara!"

I just gave a little cry, slipped from the bed to the floor, laid my
head in her lap, and told her everything. It was such a relief, and
such a relief to feel those good mot