3 July

Horrid lessons of absolutely *all* kinds today. Miss Prism is *quite* a mood. Dr. Chasuble is quite overwhelmed with christening this week and so unable to take Miss Prism off my hands. Finally found time between tea and dinner to receive a letter from Ernest. He says he certainly *hopes* that I will refuse attentions from any boys besides him, as it is not proper to receive gifts from one to whom one is not engaged. I certainly will be obliged to firmly say, but sweetly, sorry.

26 June

I am preparing to sing at the Arbuthnots' in a few days' time. Miss Prism feels that I should practice more at reading the notes and learning the words. On this point I really must disagree. Absolutely *anyone* may learn *notes*. *I* sing with great expression and style. As a result, Miss Prism and I have entered into quite a row—she refused to allow me a third piece of cake at tea. Really, I can't see what good *starving* me does! Miss Prism is *quite unreasonable*.

Dear Ernest writes to say that he simply cannot wait to hear me sing.

25 June

Ernest wrote to me today simply to ask that I tell him *how* undressed the Marquess of Carabas *was* exactly. He was *most* concerned! This makes me wonder greatly about that old snake rumour. He says he merely desires information. *I* merely desire information.

Uncle Jack gone, so I cornered Maxine. She says it's all very natural and said didn't I ever notice the stallions and the bulls. Well of *course* I feel entirely silly now. I didn't think it polite to notice. I am *so relieved* to have the matter resolved *at last*. I suppose this proves once and for all that men are animals.

20 June

Absolutely charmingly imploring letter from my sweet, repentant boy. He was *quite melancholy* indeed. Of course, he trusts me *entirely*, but he fears I never can love him as much as he loves me. He writes that he is still quite *shaken* at having been away from me for so very long. He fears I may have despaired of him ever returning. He begs my forgiveness and looks forward to the day when he can rest in my soothing and restoritive (sp?) presence. What a dear romantic boy he is!

18 June

Dear Ernest is very annoyed at all the evening parties I have gone to in his absence and has entirely *refused* to speak to me about his travels until I tell him absolutely *everything* that has happened. Of course, I have nothing at all to hide, so I will tell him nothing. I do like a bit of sulkiness in a man, but snits are another matter entirely.

Uncle Jack back this evening in a most agreeable mood! He promises to take me for a nice drive tomorrow unless the weather prevails.

16 June

My dear romantic boy has written to me at last! He apologized so sweetly for failing to write more often but says that he has missed me *desperately* and is entirely *determined*to find some way to me at once. He says he got in hardly any scrapes at all on his journey and that he will tell me all the details soon. He says that Uncle Jack is not at all saving him from any scrapes—that Uncle Jack is merely spying on poor Ernest, but also attending to his philanthropies.

Oh I am so *relieved* that my dear sweet love is home!

5 June

My dear guardian has decreed that I will begin singing lessons with Miss Prism, who is most excited indeed about the prospect of introducing me to "the fine art of musical composition." As a result, I am obliged to practice upon the piano forte so that I might accompany myself at evening parties.

No response from Ernest.

26 May

I have received a letter from abroad. I don't know whether they have stamps abroad. Ernest says he cannot say anything *at all* about his voyage. Says he will not be able to write often but that I must be patient and remember that he loves me more than life itself. I don't think he should say he loves me more than life itself—that doesn't seem to make much sense. What a daring, dangerous life he must lead!

12 May

Three days until the Charity Ball. We are to have a gross of confetti, which will drop at midnight. Nearly all the guests will be coming down from London specially, and the band will be mae up entirely of members of the London Philharmonic, so we will have all the bedrooms and guest houses quite full. The excitement in the air is quite palpable, and the house staff are scurrying about like a thousand mice, only bigger of course.

Ernest increasingly distressed at being excluded from the ball. He hopes some day we will hold a charity ball for him.

10 May

Uncle Jack arrived back this morning with my new German text, and Miss Prism says we will be obliged to spend a *large* amount of time on German now since we have missed so many lessons. I hate German. It isn't at all a becoming language. In fact, I am quite sure that I look more than usually plan after my German lessons.

Sweet, appealing letter from Ernest, asking whether I will still think of him even after I have met all the charming boys at the ball. I have informed him that I will not even *look* at any boys at the ball, unless I am obliged to dance with them of course.

8 May

Uncle Jack gone! I suppose my darling Ernest has bounded again. Oh I *do* wish I could meet up with him! At the very least, I could bound with him. He has written me a charming letter saying he is sure I could travel with him, he is sure it would be okay! He says we could trek up and down through the Punjab from the source of the river to the sea. Oh the Punjab does sound so very exciting! I hear the Punjab is lovely, except of course that it is inhabited almost entirely by foreigners.

4 May

A sweet, pining letter from Ernest, begging me to forgive him for his jealousies and grieving that he was unable to see me in my outfit. I am having my coronet dried and will save it to show him when we meet.

Lessons *beastly* today—went on for *hours*. Miss Prism quite intent on me entirely understanding the Pound/Mark exchange rate, and I money holds no interest for me. Indeed, I think it quite vulgar to have any understanding of money at all.

24 April

Ernest wrote me the most terribly *agitated* letter today. He is threatening to take *drastic measures* if I accept any attentions at all from the doctor, I wrote back immediately explaining that *of course* he must calm himself and be quite *reasonable*, as he must see that one simply cannot *disobey a doctor's orders*!

22 April

Ernest is *very* jealous of my relationship with the doctor. The poor boy is frightened he will lose me. He is entirely *bombarding* me with loving words. He has even attempted a charmingly simple little love posy. What a dear, romantic boy he is! I am quite quite sure he will bring me lots and lots of flowers as soon as I am able to get outside.

I have special ordered my May Queen dress—from London (!) and Uncle Jack will pick it up. If only Ernest could see me in it. He would be my slave for evermore.

20 April

Still no letter from Earnest. I am to sick to rite.

19 April

Sick and inconsolable. If only my dear Ernest were here by my side! But not even a letter!

17 April

Miss Prism has quite a chill today and stayed in bed all day. I was free to do anything I liked. Couldn't find anything at all to do.

Later—letter from Ernest with no news in it whatsoever.

15 April

Uncle Jack is *not* sending me to London. He means for us to sojourn in Germany! He says it will be a wonderful learning opportunity for me to practice my (horrid) German in its homeland! I hate German! I hate Uncle Jack!

Later—letter from Ernest. My own sweet, loving boy! He says that he will meet me without fail in Germany! He hates German too. We will speak only English there. Mudie left this afternoon on the 4:05. She has her bridge game this evening in town. Uncle Jack has gone with her. Not to bridge.

13 April

Today Mudie and Miss Prism took a day trip, and Uncle Jack and I stayed in and played games. I asked Uncle Jack to teach me to play cards, but he says gambling is not only improper for a young girl, but also entirely stupid for anyone at all. Oh, why can't I learn anything useful or amusing in this house?! I really can't see why everyone insists on treating me like a child!

Later—short note from Ernest, promising me that he will never ever ever treat me like a child. So there.

10 April

Mudie quizzed me on her birthday 3-volume novel this morning. At the last, I was obliged to own I had not finished it as yet. Told her I was reading as slowly as possible since I simply cannot *bear* for it to end. Dr. Chasuble says a lie that hurts no one is not *really* a lie in God's eyes.
Short note from Ernest wishing me a very lovely Easter and a most joyous end to Lent. Horrid Lent! Why do we have to celebrate (?) Lent? It seems very unfair!