I don’t want to have dinner in my room! Think of the stuffiness of it! and perhaps hearing laughter going on downstairs.
I can always amuse myself watching faces, however dull they are. I thanked her, and said it would not be at all necessary, as I must get accustomed to seeing people, I could not count upon always meeting hostesses with such kind thoughts as hers, and I might as well get used to it.
She said yes, but not cordially.
To-morrow Mrs. Mackintosh, the eldest daughter, is arriving with her four children. I remember her wedding five years ago. I have never seen her since.
She was very tall and thin, and stooped dreadfully, and Mrs. Carruthers said Providence had been very kind in giving her a husband at all. But when Mr. Mackintosh trotted down the aisle with her, I did not think so!
A wee sandy fellow about up to her shoulder!
Oh, I would hate to be tied to that! I think to be tied to anything could not be very nice. I wonder how I ever thought of marrying Mr. Carruthers off hand!
I feel now I shall never marry—for years. Of course, one can’t be an old maid! But for a long time I mean to see life first.
Tryland,