Friday.
My Dear People,
My nymph is ill and unhappy and grieving for her husband, but she won't send for him, and it's the time of all times when he should be with her. I went the five blocks to the drug store and telephoned Miss Marjorie about her, and she sent the old family doctor, and when he left her eyes were red, and I suppose he was urging her to make it up.
She's such a vague, sweet, helpless thing! This dreary neighborhood is bad for her.
Denny Dolan says "there's a hard-boiled bunch hangin' around here," and warns me against venturing out after dark, even to the post-box.
Jane.
P.S. He brought me a paper bag of gum drops to-day!
A Week Later.
Almost too busy to write, my dears, what with cooking and catering and maiding and companioning. Besides, I'll have you to know I'm keeping company! It's walking out with Denny Dolan I am! I get the cleaning woman to stay with my nymph for an hour, and I'm stepping out with my young man. Twice to the movies we've been, and had dripping ice-cream cones afterwards!
So no more at present, for a girl would be thinking of her beau the way she has no time to be palavering on paper and he waiting in the alley!