ected and brotherly ... just as
if I'd known him all my life. We walked down the long white avenue,
where everything was growing dusky, and I had told him all my troubles
before we got to the end of it. He was so sympathetic and agreed with
me that it was a pity people had to grow up. He promised to come over
tomorrow and look at Don's leg. Don is one of my dogs, and he has got
a bad leg. I've been doctoring it myself, but it doesn't get any
better. Sidney thinks he can cure it. He says I must call him Sidney
if I want him to call me Nic.

When we got to the lake, there it lay all gleaming and smooth as glass
... the most tempting thing.

"What a glorious possible slide," he said. "Let us have it, little
lass."

He took my hand and we ran down the slope and went skimming over the
ice. It _was_ glorious. The house came in sight as we reached the
other side. It was big and dark and silent.

"So the old place is still standing," said Sidney, looking up at it.
In the dusk I thought his face had a tender, reverent look instead of
the rather mocking expression it had worn all along.

"Haven't you been there yet?" I asked quickly.

"No. I'm stopping at the hotel over in Croyden. The house will need
some fixing up before it's fit to live in. I just came down tonight to
look at it and took a short cut through the woods. I'm glad I did. It
was worth while to see you come tramping down that long white avenue
when you thought yourself alone with the silence. I thought I had
never seen a child so full of the pure joy of existence. Hold fast to
that, little lass, as long as you can. You'll never find anything to
take its place after it goes. You jolly little child!"

"I'm eighteen," I said suddenly. I don't know what made me say it.

He laughed and pulled his coat collar up around his ears.

"Never," he mocked. "You're about twelve ... stay twelve, and always
wear red caps and jackets, you vivid thing: Good night."

He was off across the lake, and I came home. Yes, I do like him, even
if he is a man.

* * * * *

February Twentieth.

I've found out what diaries are for ... to work off blue moods in,
moods that come on without any reason whatever and therefore can't be
confided to any fellow creature. You scribble away for a while ... and
then it's all gone ... and your soul feels clear as crystal once more.

I always go to Sidney now in a blue moo