I telegraphed Bouba to buy the horse, and I tremble for fear it may already be sold.

How they spoil me! How I fail to appreciate anything! And to dare complain! How wicked I am! And how good and loving are those who surround me! I am truly not worth all this!

Grandpapa is often very irritating; he prevents me from playing the piano with his complaints: "What is this she is playing, how dreadful!" — and things of that sort. I know he is old, but I do not always restrain myself and I tell him what I think.

I have arranged and put away my dresses; my room is set up thus until the furniture arrives.