Oh, I'm sick--sick, sick of it! I'm ashamed to look "ma" Burke in the face, because I think such mean things about them all when I'm in bed and blue. February 6. I decline all the invitations that come for me personally. I sit in my "office" and pretend to be fussing with my books--they give me the horrors! And I was so proud of them and of my plans to make my little enterprise a success. February 7. Mrs. Burke came in this afternoon and came round my desk and kissed me. "What is it, dear? What's the matter?" she said. "Won't you tell _me_? Why, I feel as if you were my daughter. I did have a daughter. She came first. Tom was so disappointed. But I was glad. A son belongs to both his parents, and, when he's grown up, to his wife. But a daughter--she would 'a' belonged to me always. And she had to up and die just when she was about to make up her mind to talk." I put my face down in my arms on the desk. "Tired, dear?" said "ma"--she's a born "ma." "Of course, that's it. You're clean pegged out, working and worrying. You must put it all away and rest." And she sat down by me. All of a sudden--I couldn't help it--I put my head on her great, big bosom and burst out crying. "Oh, I'm so _bad_!" I said. "And you're so _good_!" She patted me and kissed me on top of my head. "What pretty, soft hair you have, dear," she said, "and what a lot of it! My! My! I don't see how anybody that looks like you do could ever be unhappy a minute. You don't know what it means to be born homely and fat and to have to work hard just to make people not object to having you about." And she went on talking in that way until I was presently laughing, still against that great, big bosom with the great, big heart beating under it. When I felt that it would be a downright imposition to stay there any longer I straightened up. I felt quite cheerful. "Was there something worrying you?" she asked. I blushed and hung my head. "Yes, but I can't tell you," said I. And I couldn't--could I? Besides, there somehow doesn't seem to be much of anything in all my brooding. What a nasty beast that Mrs. Tevis is!