DECEMBER 20, 18--.
A horrible thing has happened, and I have married a poor man after all!
Guy signed for somebody and had to pay, and Elmwood must be sold, and we
are to move into a stuffy little house without Zillah, and with only one
girl. It is too dreadful to think about, and I was sick for a week after
Guy told me of it. I might as well have married Tom, only I like Guy the
best. He looks so sorry and sad that I sometimes forget myself to pity
him. I am going home to mother for a long, long time--all winter,
maybe--and I shall enjoy it so much. Guy says I have ten thousand
dollars of my own, and the interest on that will buy my dresses, I
guess, and get something for Miss Frances, too. She is a noble woman,
and tries to bear up so brave. She says they will keep the furniture of
my blue room for me, if I want it; and I do, and I mean to have Guy
send it to Indianapolis, if he will. Oh, mother, I am so glad I am
coming back, and I almost wish--no, I don't, either. I like Guy, only I
don't like being married!