January 16th.—­I wonder what’s got into me to-day—­I feel cross, without the least bit of reason for so feeling.  I guess I’m not well, for I’m sure I’ve felt like one great long sunbeam, I don’t know how many months, and it doesn’t come natural to be fretful.

17th.—­I knew I wasn’t well yesterday and to-day am half sick.  We got through breakfast at twenty minutes to eleven, and as I was up at seven, I got kind o’ hungry and out of sorts.  This afternoon went to church and heard one of Dr. E.’s argumentative sermons.  But there’s something in those Prayer-book prayers, certainly, if men won’t or can’t put any grace into their sermons.  I wish I had a perfect ideal Sunday in my head or heart, or both.  If I’m very good I’m tired at night, and if I’m bad my conscience smites me—­so any way I’m not very happy just now and I’m sick and mean to go to bed and so!

18th.—­Had a talk with Nannie.  She has a thoughtful mind and who knows but we may do her some good.  I love to have her here, and for once in my life like to feel a little bit—­just the least bit—­old; that is, old enough to give a little sage advice to the poor thing, when she asks it.  She says she won’t read any more novels and will read the Bible and dear knows what else she said about finding an angel for me to marry, which heaven forbid she should do, since I’m too fond of being a little mite naughty, to desire anything of that sort.  After she was in bed she began to say her prayers most vehemently and among other things, prayed for Miss Payson.  I had the strangest sensation, and yet an almost heavenly one, if I may say so.  May it please Heaven to listen to her prayer for me, and mine for her, dear child.  But suppose I do her no good while she lives so under my wing?

19th.—­Up early—­walked and read Leighton.  Mr. P. amused us at dinner by giving a funny account in his funny way, of a mistake of E.——­ H.——­’s.  She asked me the French for as.  “Aussi” quoth I. Thereupon she tucked a great O. C. into her exercise and took it to him and they jabbered and sputtered over it, and she insisted that Miss Payson said so and he put his face right into hers and said, “Will you try to prove that Miss Payson is a fool, you little goose?” and at last Miss A. understood and explained.  Read Leighton after school and thirty-two pages of Lamartine—­then Mr. P. called—­then Miss ——­ teased me to love her and kept me in her paws till the bell rang for tea.  Why can’t I like her?  I should be so ashamed if I should find out after all that she is as good as she seems, but I never did get cheated yet when I trusted my own mother wits, my instinct, or whatever it is by which I know folks—­and she is found wanting by this something.