think she'll get one because it's unhealthy. The tablecloth for Father
is finished and is being trimmed, but Mother's book cover is not quite
ready yet. I'm giving Dora a little manicure case. Oh, and I'd nearly
forgotten what I want more than anything else, a lock-up box in which to
keep my diary. Dora wants some openwork stockings too and three books. A
frightful thing happened to me the other day. I left one of the pages
of my diary lying about or lost one somehow or other. When I came home
Inspee said: "you've lost _this_, haven't you? School notes I suppose?"
I didn't notice what it was for a moment, but then I saw by the look
of it and said: Yes, those are school notes. Hm-m-m, said Inspee, not
exactly that are they? You can thank your stars that I've not shown them
to Mother. Besides people who can't spell yet really ought not to keep
diaries. It's not suitable for children. I was in a wax. In the closet
I took a squint to see what mistakes I had made. There was only _wenn_
with one _n_ instead of double _n_ and _dass_ with short _ss's_, that's
all. I was jolly glad that there was nothing about _her_ on the page.
She'd underlined the _n_ and the short _ss's_ with red, just as if she
was a schoolmistress, infernal cheek! The best would be to have a book
with a lock to it, which one could alway keep locked, then no one could
read any of it and underline one's mistakes in red. I often write so
fast that it's easy to make a slip now and again. As if she never made a
mistake. The whole thing made me furious. But I can't say anything about
it because of Mother, at least on the way to school; but no, if I say
nothing at all then she always gets more waxy than ever. If I were to
say much about it Mother might remember those 5 pages I lost in the
country and I'd rather not thank you.

December 22nd. Aunt Dora came to-day. She's going to stay with us for a
time till Mother is quite well again. I didn't remember her at all, for
I was only four or five when she went away from Vienna. You dear little
black beetle she said to me and gave me a kiss. I didn't like the
_black_ much, but Hella says that suits me, that it's _piquant_.
_Piquant_ is what the officers always say of her cousin in Krems, Father
says she is a beauty, and she's dark like me. But I'd rather be fair,
fair with brown eyes or better still with violet eyes. Shall I grow up a
beauty? Oh I do hope I shall!

December 23rd. I am frightfully excited about to-morrow. I wonder what
I shall get? Now I must go and decorate the Christmas tree. Inspee said:
Hullo, is _Gretl_ going to help decorate this year? She's never done it
before! I should like to know why not. But Aunt Dora took my side. "Of
course she'll help decorate too; but please don't stuff yourselves
with sweets." "If Dora doesn't eat anything I shan't either," said I
promptly.

Evening. Yesterday was our last day at school. The holidays are from the
23rd to January 2nd. It's glorious. I shall be able to go skating every
day. Of course I had no time to-day and shan't have to--morrow. I wonder
whether I should send the Gold Fairy a Christmas card. I wish she had a
prettier name. Anastasia Klastoschek; it is so ugly. All Czech names
are so ugly. Father knows a Count Wilczek, but a still worse name is
Schafgotsch. Nothing would induce me to marry anyone called Schafgotsch
or Wilczek even if he were a count and a millionaire. Yesterday we
paid our respects to the staff, Verbenowitsch and I went to Frau Doktor
because she is fondest of us, or is _said_ to be. Nobody wanted to go to
Professor Rigl, Igel, we always say Nikel, for when he has respects paid
to him he always says: "Aw ri'." But it would have been rude to leave
him out and so the monitors had to go. When Christmas was drawing near
Frau Doktor told us that we were none of us to give presents to the
staff. "I beg you, girls, to bear in mind what I am saying, for if you
do not there will only be trouble. You remember what happened on St.
Nicholas' day. And you must not send anything to the homes of the staff,
nor must the Christ Child leave anything on any one's doorstep." As she
said this she looked hard at me and Edith Bergler, so she knows who left
the Krampus. I'm so tired I can't keep my eyes open. Hurrah, to-morrow
is Christmas Eve!!!

December 24th. Christmas Eve afternoon is horrid. One does not know what
to be at. I'm not allowed to go skating so the best thing is to write.
Oswald came home yesterday. Everyone says he's looking splendid; I think
he's awfully pale and he snorted when everyone said he had such a fine
colour; of course, how can he look well when he has such a _heartache_.
I wish I could tell him that I understand what he feels, but he's too
proud to accept sympathy from me. He has wished for an army revolver for
Christmas, but I don't think he'll get one for boys at the middle school
are not allowed to have any firearms. Not long ago at a Gymnasium in
Galicia one of the boys shot a master out of revenge; they said it was
because the boy was getting on badly with his work, but really it was
about a girl, although the master was 36 years old. This morg. I was
in town with Oswald shopping; we met the Warths, Elli and . . . Robert.
Oswald said that Elli was quite nice-looking but that Robert was an ugly
beast. Besides, he can't stand him he said, because he glared at me so.
If only he knew what happened in the summer! I was awfully condescending
to Robert and that made him furious. If one could only save you girls
from all the troubles which the world calls "Love," said Oswald on the
way home. I was just going to say "I know that you're unhappy in love
and I can feel for you," when Inspee came round the corner of the
Bognergasse with her chum and 2 officers were following them, so none
of them saw us. "Great Scott, Frieda's full-fledged now," said Oswald,
"she's a little tart." I can't stand that sort of vulgarity so I did
not say another word all the way home. He noticed and said to Mother:
"Gretl's mouth has been frozen up from envy." That's all. But it was
really disgusting of him and now I know what line to take.

Just a moment for a word or two. The whole Christmas Eve has gone to
pot. A commissionaire came with a bouquet for Dora and Father is fuming.
I wish I knew who sent it. I wonder if it was one of those 2 officers?
Of course Inspee says she has not the ghost of an idea. What surprises
me is that Oswald has not given her away. All he said was: I say, what
a lark! But Father was down on him like anything, "You hold your jaw