I pressed it to my nose-tip.
12th—Where’s my painstaking description of Echo Mountain?
I made a pleasant trip there yesterday with Schuyler’s party.
I lost my writing penned last night.
Such a heedless tomboy!
I idled, watching a spider from my window. It was framing a net amid the garden trees. An awfully dignified tom cat glared from under a bush. I was sorry no game came upon the scene to his honour. My profound Japanese scholar was not discouraged by the lack of an audience. He was busy presenting his polite “Gokigen ikaga?”
Then I found what I did with my yesterday’s diary.
Areda mono!
I wiped my oily hands with it and buried it in a trash basket.
I fixed my hair this morning.