A Young Girl's Diary
Dora lord it over me, but Mother often makes a favourite of Dora. I'm writing to
Hella to-day. She's not written to me yet.
July 21st. Hella has written to me, 4 pages, and such a jolly letter. I don't know what
I should do without her! Perhaps she will come here in August or perhaps I shall go
to stay with her. I think I would rather go to stay with her. I like paying long visits.
Father said: "We'll see," and that means he'll let me go. When Father and Mother say
We'll see it really means Yes; but they won't say "yes" so that if it does not come off
one can't say that they haven't kept their word. Father really lets me do anything I
like, but not Mother. Still, if I practice my piano regularly perhaps she'll let me go. I
must go for a walk.
July 22nd. Hella wrote that I positively must write every day, for one must keep a
promise and we swore to write every day. I. . . .
July 23rd. It's awful. One has no time. Yesterday when I wanted to write the room
had to be cleaned and D. was in the arbour. Before that I had not written a single
word and in the front veranda all my pages blew away. We write on loose pages.
Hella thinks it's better because then one does not have to tear anything out. But we
have promised one another to throw nothing away and not to tear anything up. Why
should we? One can tell a friend everything. A pretty friend if one couldn't.
Yesterday when I wanted to go into the arbour Dora glared at me savagely, saying
What do you want? As if the arbour belonged to her, just as she wanted to bag the
front veranda all for herself. She's too sickening.
Yesterday afternoon we were on the Kolber-Kogel. It was lovely. Father was awfully
jolly and we pelted one another with pine-cones. It was jolly. I threw one at Dora
and it hit her on her padded bust. She let out such a yell and I said out loud You
couldn't feel it there. As she went by she said Pig! It doesn't matter, for I know
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she understood me and that what I said was true. I should like to know what she
writes about every day to Erika and what she writes in her diary. Mother was out of
sorts and stayed at home.
July 24th. To-day is Sunday. I do love Sundays. Father says: You children have
Sundays every day. That's quite true in the holidays, but not at other times. The
peasants and their wives and children are all very gay, wearing Tyrolese dresses,
just like those I have seen in the theatre. We are wearing our white dresses to -day,
and I have made a great cherrystain upon mine, not on purpose, but because I sat
down upon some fallen cherries. So this afternoon when we go out walking I must
wear my pink dress. All the better, for I don't care to be dressed exactly the same as
Dora. I don't see why everyone should know that we are sisters. Let people think we
are cousins. She does not like it either; I wish I knew why.
Oswald is coming in a week, and I am awfully pleased. He is older than Dora, but I
can always get on with him. Hella writes that she finds it dull without me; so do I.
July 25th. I wrote to Fraulein Pruckl to -day. She is staying at Achensee. I should like
to see her. Every afternoon we bathe and then go for a walk. But to -day it has been
raining all day. Such a bore. I forgot to bring my paint-box and I'm not allowed to
read all day. Mother says, if you gobble all your books up now you'll have nothing
left to read. That's quite true, but I can't even go and swing.