the greatest of artists. The doll literally is me. She asked if she could cut some of my hair for its head and
of course I let her. She tells me this doll is not the real doll she is going to make of me. That will be much
larger. This is just the model from which she will work. I told her I thought this was perfect but she said
the other would be of less perishable material. Maybe she will give me this one after she is finished with it.
I was so anxious to take the baby doll home to Di that I didn't stay long. I smiled and spoke to Laschna
as I went out, and she nodded to me although not very cordially. I wonder if she can be jealous.
Nov. 13. This is the first time I have felt like writing since that dreadful case of Mr. Peters on the morning
of the 10th. I had just finished writing about Di's doll when the hospital called to say they wanted me on
duty that night. Of course, I said I would come. Oh, but I wish I hadn't. I'll never forget that dreadful
death. Never! I don't want to write or think about it. When I came home that morning I could not sleep,