Poor Oji San! Playing chaperon is not a very promising occupation, is it? I stood by the “happy family” of monkeys. I tried to descry their point of view in orations. I gave it up. The vain Miss Polly worked hard to bring everybody to an understanding with one eternal “Hello, dear!” I found such grace in the elephant when he waved his honourable trunk. The stupid Mr. Elephant wasn’t stupid a bit in accepting my present. How philosophically he gazed at me! Very likely I was the first Jap girl to his audience. What respectable eyes! “You’ll bankrupt yourself in peanuts,” my uncle warned. 26th—A white apron on my black dress makes me so cute. I am just suited to be a chambermaid. Shall I volunteer as a servant? I bought an apron. To-day is house-cleaning day. I kept busy a good while arranging my theatrical costume as a maid. Wasn’t it fun? I was ready to scrub the floor, when I heard “kotsu kotsu,” on my door. It was Annie with a broom. “I’m your help. Just a moment! I have forgotten the finishing glance in my mirror.” 27th—I have been studying the catechism. I am afraid to go to church, for the minister may put many a question to me. Is Miss Ada a dutiful church-goer? I don’t think so. She would rather mumble a nigger song than a chapter from the Bible. I will ask her a few things from the catechism at my first opportunity. 28th—“Hand me your cup after you are done with your tea!” Mrs. Browning requested. “I will ponder on your fortune.” “How delightful!” I said. My fortune? I remembered how I used to scatter my pocket money among the fortune-tellers, pleased to be informed of a lot of nice things. What meaning she could find in a cup! I felt like a mother with her children already in bed, when I dropped my spoon into my tea. I felt mistress of the situation. Was there ever anything more welcome than to learn your fortune? “A young American (rich, very rich—indeed) will win your affection. The marriage will be a happy one,” she prophesied. Is that so? Life is becoming very interesting. I wonder where my would-be husband is seeking me. Shall I advertise in a paper? How? If my first-rate picture by Mr. Taber were printed, it would be a whole thing in such a business. I thought the picture beautiful enough to sell at any stationer’s of U.S.A. How many thousand could I sell in a week? Could I make money out of it? Some decent fortune, I mean, of course. 29th—Ho, ho, such a day! I was aroused by the roar of a milk-wagon early in the morning. I sought a pin in vain. I tore my skirt on a sneering nail at the door. I upset my flower-vase. I sat by my window. A vegetable pedlar howled to me, “Potatoes? Potatoes?” I couldn’t recall a sweet dream I had last night. The clamour of a Chinese funeral passed under my room. The carriages were packed with hired “crying women.” Isn’t it a farce? I went out. My street-car ran off the track. A fire-engine deafened me.