Oh, Jerrie, you do not know how mortified I was over that failure, to think I knew so little; and the worst of it is I can't learn, or understand; or remember, and it makes my head ache so to try.

I am sorry most on father's account, he is so proud of me and would like to see me take the lead in everything.

Poor father! he is growing old so fast.

Why, his hair is white as snow, and he sometimes talks to himself just as Uncle Arthur does.

I wonder what ails him that he never smiles or seems interested in anything except when I am smoothing his hair or sitting on his knee; then he brightens up and calls me his pet and darling, and talks queer kind of talk, I think.