as I expected, Olive was determined we should have lunch served
at our meetings. We had a battle royal over it. The majority was
against eats and now the minority is sulking. Irene Howard was on the
eats side and she has been very cool to me ever since and it makes me
feel miserable. I wonder if mother and Mrs. Elliott have problems in
the Senior Society too. I suppose they have, but they just go on calmly
in spite of everything. I go on--but not calmly--I rage and cry--but I
do it all in private and blow off steam in this diary; and when it's
over I vow I'll show them. I never sulk. I detest people who sulk.
Anyhow, we've got the society started and we're to meet once a week,
and we're all going to learn to knit.

"Shirley and I went down to the station again to try to induce Dog
Monday to come home but we failed. All the family have tried and
failed. Three days after Jem had gone Walter went down and brought
Monday home by main force in the buggy and shut him up for three days.
Then Monday went on a hunger strike and howled like a Banshee night and
day. We had to let him out or he would have starved to death.

"So we have decided to let him alone and father has arranged with the
butcher near the station to feed him with bones and scraps. Besides,
one of us goes down nearly every day to take him something. He just
lies curled up in the shipping-shed, and every time a train comes in he
will rush over to the platform, wagging his tail expectantly, and tear
around to every one who comes off the train. And then, when the train
goes and he realizes that Jem has not come, he creeps dejectedly back
to his shed, with his disappointed eyes, and lies down patiently to
wait for the next train. Mr. Gray, the station master, says there are
times when he can hardly help crying from sheer sympathy. One day some
boys threw stones at Monday and old Johnny Mead, who never was known to
take notice of anything before, snatched up a meat axe in the butcher's
shop and chased them through the village. Nobody has molested Monday
since.

"Kenneth Ford has gone back to Toronto. He came up two evenings ago to
say good-bye. I wasn't home--some clothes had to be made for the baby
and Mrs. Meredith offered to help me, so I was over at the manse, and I
didn't see Kenneth. Not that it matters; he told Nan to say good-bye to
Spider for him and tell me not to forget him wholly in my absorbing
maternal duties. If he could leave such a frivolous, insu