Memories mean more to me than dresses.
No one has ever become poor by giving.
At any rate, Daddy usually comes to my defence. Without him I wouldn't be able to stick out here.
We lit the stove a few days ago and the entire room is filled with smoke. I prefer central heating, and I'm probably not the only one.
When I write I can shake off all my cares. My sorrow disappears, my spirits are revived.
I soothe my conscience now with the thought that it is better for hard words to be on paper than that Mummy should carry them in her heart.