before it's finished. I'm not going to write things every day--that's
silly! I'll just keep it for times when I want to talk, and Lorna is
not near to confide in. It's quite exciting to think all that will be
written in these empty pages! What fun it would be if I could read them
now and see what is going to happen! About half way through I shall be
engaged, and in the last page of all I'll scribble a few words in my
wedding-dress before I go on to church, for that will be the end of Una
Sackville, and there will be nothing more to write after that. It's
very nice to be married, of course, but stodgy--there's no more
excitement.

There has been plenty of excitement to-day, at any rate. I always
thought it would be lovely when the time came for leaving school, and
having nothing to do but enjoy oneself, but I've cried simply
bucketfuls, and my head aches like fury. All the girls were so
fearfully nice. I'd no idea they liked me so much. Irene May began
crying at breakfast-time, and one or another of them has been at it the
whole day long. Maddie made me walk with her in the crocodile, and
said, "Croyez bien, ma cherie, que votre Maddie ne vous oubliera
jamais." It's all very well, but she's been a perfect pig to me many
times over about the irregular verbs! She gave me her photograph in a
gilt frame--not half bad; you would think she was quite nice-looking.

The kiddies joined together and gave me a purse--awfully decent of the
poor little souls--and I've got simply dozens of books and ornaments and
little picture things for my room. We had cake for tea, but half the
girls wouldn't touch it. Florence said it was sickening to gorge when
your heart was breaking. She is going to ask her mother to let her
leave next term, for she says she simply cannot stand our bedroom after
I'm gone. She and Lorna don't get on a bit, and I was always having to
keep the peace. I promised faithfully I would write sheets upon sheets
to them every single week, because my leaving at half term makes it
harder for them than if they were going home too.

"We shall be so flat and dull without you, Circle!" Myra said. She
calls me "Circle" because I'm fat--not awfully, you know, but just a
little bit, and she's so thin herself. "I think I'll turn over a new
leaf and go in for work. I don't seem to have any heart for getting
into scrapes by myself!"

"Well, we _have_ kept them going, haven't we!" I said. "Do you
remember,