t sort
of thing." I shall pray every night that Mother may get well without an
operation. I expect we shan't all go away together at Whitsuntide this
year, for Mother and Dora are to go to a health resort, most likely to
Franzensbad.

May 18th. It was lovely at the Richters; Walter was there from Modling,
he was awfully nice, and said I was so like my sister that it was
difficult to tell us apart. That's a frightful cram, but I know what
he really meant. He plays the flute splendidly, and the three played
a trio, so that I was frightfully annoyed with myself for not having
worked harder at my music. From to-morrow on I shall practice 2 hours
every day, if I can possibly find time. Next winter Viktor is going to
found a private dramatic club, so he must be going to stay more than six
months in Vienna. Walter thinks Dora awfully charming, and when I said:
"The great pity is that she's got such frightful anemia," he said: In a
man's eyes that is no drawback whatever, as you can see in my brother.
Moreover, that illness is not a real illness, but often makes a girl
more charming than ever, as you can see in your sister.

Day before yesterday Miss Maggie Lundy came for the first time; anybody
can have her for me. She wears false hair, flaxen. She says she is
engaged, but Dora says, has been. I simply don't believe it. V. says
Mad. is awfully pretty. When I asked Dora if she was not jealous, she
said she didn't care, she was quite sure of his love. He means to leave
the army and go into the civil service, and then he will be able
to marry. But Dora said, there's plenty of time for that, a secret
engagement is much nicer. Then she noticed she'd given herself away, and
she blushed like anything and said: You naturally must be engaged before
you are married, mustn't you?--of course she _is_ secretly engaged, but
she won't tell me about it. What's the good of my being the "Guardian
Angel of their Love?" If he only knew.

May 19th. I really ought to practice to-day, but I simply have no
time, first of all I had my lesson anyhow, and secondly something awful
happened to Dora. She left her diary lying about in the school; and
because we have our religion lesson in the Fifth I saw a green bound
book lying under the third bench. Great Scott, I thought, that looks
like Dora's diary. I went up as quickly as I could and put my satchel
over it. Later in the lesson I picked it up. When I got home
at 1 o'clock I did not say anything at f