I wonder how Dick Livingstone liked it? Mr.  Livingstone, I should say.  Brother Bob doesn’t think it nice for girls to speak of young men by their first names.  But then brothers are so particular about their own sisters, though, Goodness knows, they flirt enough with other people’s.  Bob and Kate Harris, for example, and yet he preaches at me!

Oh, the young men are going out.  They push by as well as they can, but still they crowd unpleasantly.  I am sure I’ve seen that nice one somewhere.  They are going to stay away, too, I think, for they have taken their over-coats.  If only Dick—­Mr. Livingstone, I mean—­

Oh, there’s the curtain again.  It’s really quite interesting.  I was mistaken about the actors:  they do very well indeed.  Queen Elizabeth is excellent, and so are they all.  It shows how careful one ought to be not to judge too hastily.  That’s what mother always says.  I won’t do so again.

Well, that play is over—­now for the comedy.  Some one says it is still raining.  I hate a waterproof, my figure looks so well in this suit.  I might carry my cloak over my arm, but then I’m afraid the rain will ruin my dress.  I must wear the waterproof and be a dowdy.  I don’t believe, after all, that it would hurt the underskirt, and then, with the umbrella up, I should have to take his arm.  I shouldn’t like to get this dress spoiled, either.  I know mother wouldn’t give me another.  Brother Bob says men don’t care so much about women’s dress:  they like to see a sensible girl.  I don’t believe that; besides, I have thick boots, and I’m sure that’s sensible.  I don’t care:  I won’t wear the waterproof unless it is a perfect deluge.  My goodness!  I don’t see Dick anywhere!  Suppose, after all, he didn’t come to meet me? and I gave him that flower at Mrs. Leslie’s, too!  I wish the thing was over.

But oh, what a pretty dress! and how sweet she is!  I had no idea she could be so cunning, after being such a tragedy queen.  The man on the stage actually kissed her.  Bob says they don’t really kiss, though.

I’m sorry it’s over.  Oh dear!  I don’t like being alone in such a crowd.  Brother Bob wouldn’t have let me come, I know, only he thought I should meet the Davidsons.  No matter:  I’ll never tell him.  I do believe Dick hasn’t stayed, after all.  I’ll just put on my waterproof and thick veil, and go home and have a good cry.

Oh, Mr. Livingstone, how you startled me!  I had no idea you were here.  Yes, I am by myself:  certainly you may escort me home.  Take a walk in this pouring rain?  Why, it’s all sunshine!

C.A.D.

NOTES.