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All of them promised, and Katy produced it from her pocket. It began thus: "March 12. Have resolved to keep a jurnal. March 13. Had rost befe for diner, and cabage, and potato and appel sawse, and rice puding. I do not like rice puding when it is like ours. Charley Slack's kind is rele good. Mush and sirup for tea. March 19. Forgit what did. John and me saved our pie to take to schule. March 21.
Feeling somewhat emty at bed time and never sleeping well when hollow inside, I went down to the pantrey at eleven P. M. to see if any of the dinner puding had been left, although not hopeful, owing to the servants mostly finishing the desert. He was writing somthing, and he tried to hide it when I entered. Being in my ROBE DE NUIT I closed the door and said through it: "Please go away, William.
Jerry, looking over his shoulder, when he had finished, read the following, adorned with many blots and smudges: "P.S. Plenty mor to say but no rume. cant put the puding to-day." One of Bobbie's and Jerry's greatest treats was to have tea at the cottage on the edge of the park, where old Mrs. Funnel presided over a table covered with cakes and home-made delicacies.
Because I want to come in, unless all the puding is gone." I could hear him moving around, as though concealing somthing. "There is no puding, miss," he said. "And no fruit except for breakfast. Your mother is very particuler that no one take the breakfast fruit." "William," I said sternly, "go out by the kitchen door. Because I am hungry, and I am coming in for SOMTHING."
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