Dog Monday waits and watches there
still, with just as much hope and confidence as ever. Sometimes he hangs
around the station house and talks to people and the rest of his time he
sits at his little kennel door and watches the track unwinkingly. We
never try to coax him home now: we know it is of no use. When Jem comes
back, Monday will come home with him; and if Jem--never comes back--
Monday will wait there for him as long as his dear dog heart goes on
beating.
"Fred Arnold was here last night. He was eighteen in November and is
going to enlist just as soon as his mother is over an operation she has
to have. He has been coming here very often lately and though I like him
so much it makes me uncomfortable, because I am afraid he is thinking
that perhaps I could care something for him. I can't tell him about Ken
--because, after all, what is there to tell? And yet I don't like to
behave coldly and distantly when he will be going away so soon. It is
very perplexing. I remember I used to think it would be such fun to have
dozens of beaux--and now I'm worried to death because two are too many.
"I am learning to cook. Susan is teaching me. I tried to learn long ago
--but no, let me be honest--Susan tried to teach me, which is a very
different thing. I never seemed to succeed with anything and I got
discouraged. But since the boys have gone away I wanted to be able to
make cake and things for them myself and so I started in again and this
time I'm getting on surprisingly well.
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