e
the rest of Byrdsville does. I am more charitable to faults than
others. I have to be. I believe I will risk the box of paper.

But on the other hand, I am very fond of the Colonel and I feel that I
would like him to know that I think he is very noble not to desert
Miss Priscilla, even if she doesn't want to marry him. He is a
faithful friend. I wonder if he would like that lovely long-stemmed
pipe that is in the drug store? And I feel like I ought to do it, not
to be partial. I won't buy him tobacco, for I feel sure that is a
thing that women ought to fear to do for a man.

This is a very lonely night, and I can't write any more because it
reminds me to be uneasy about the express package in which I sent the
article to Gilmore's Weekly.

I am going down to sit in my mother's room in a dark corner to be
comforted. That is my right and hers, too. I wonder if girls that have
mothers that can be real mothers, tell them all their troubles and
perplexities and anxieties, or do girls that have mothers not have the
other things to tell them?

But one thing before I close the ink-well I must record to my own
satisfaction, though it seems mean to write it down. The Idol has no
idea of paying any kind of attentions to Helena Kirby and it is all
settled that he doesn't like her; or, rather, doesn't know she is
living on the earth, which is still better. His lovely new gray suit
didn't affect him at all in regard to her. Roxanne told me all about
it several days ago.

Of course, everybody in Byrdsville has been very much interested and
sorry over Lovelace Peyton's explosion and his eyes, and they have all
come and said so, and they hardly ever come empty-handed. Roxanne has
got nice and plump eating the things, and so has Uncle Pompey, after
their long cornmeal fast during the time of invention number one.

But Belle's mother, Mrs. Kirby, and Helena hadn't come or done a
single thing, until this occurred day before yesterday. Helena
happened of her own accord to meet the Idol right at the cottage gate
when he came home from the furnace, and she was most untastefully
beautifully dressed. She had a large pink rose in her hand like a girl
in a story-book. She stopped to smile on him with extreme favor and
give him the rose, also out of a book. Roxanne saw and heard it all,
because she couldn't help it, from the window.

"Thank you, Miss Helena," he said with a grand bow. "I know Lovey will
feel complimented at your thinking