Oh what will I do if my money gives out? I saw a cottage to-day, that a man said I could have for ten dollars a month. I was tempted to spend nearly all I had and take it, and live on bread and water. I am desperate.
June 14th.
“Perhaps maybe you'd like 'Oaklands,'” said the farmer, laughing.
“Oaklands” turned out to be the home of a millionaire “dry-goods man” who was in Europe. I did not want “Oaklands.”
“I don't know of anything else,” said the farmer, scratching his head. Then he added with a grin, “unless it be the cook-house.”
“What's the cook-house?” I asked, suspiciously.
“Oh, it's a kind of a little place they've got 'way out in the woods,” said the farmer. “It's where they goes when they goes picnicking.”
My heart gave a jump. “What sort of a place?” I asked.
“They've got a big platform chiefly, where they put up a tent. The cook-house ain't nothin' but a little two by four shanty, with a big stove in it.”