May 19, 19--

Teddy and I have been in Paris for two days now. It had been rainy the whole time we've been here--but somehow I don't mind. Paris is one of those muted, Old-World towns that looks even more mysterious when the weather is drizzly. It is like stepping into a painting by one of the Impressionists--I mentioned this to Teddy and he looked at me appreciatively. The artist likes it when his authoress of a wife makes artistic comments. Plus, the sun has been shining in my heart ever since I became Mrs. Frederick--Emily Kent!

We went to dinner with a man who, a year ago, bought two of Teddy's paintings. We met him in the train station when we first got into town and he would not let us leave without promising we would come to his house for a visit. They are Americans and are very nice, boring people. Quite like Andrew et al. Martin is their name. Mr. Martin talked to Teddy about American football for hours on end it seemed--Teddy did an excellent job of pretending to be interested. It is a trick he says he learned from Ilse--to smile and nod and ask questions and interject with interested-sounding things like 'Oh!' and 'Really? You don't say.' I tried it myself with Mrs. Martin, and found it worked quite well.

Mrs. Martin is much younger than her husband--or else she has kept her age very well. I am apt to believe that she is older than I am for she acts so stodgy. She read my novel, The Moral of the Rose, and liked it, except for "all of the lovemaking." There is very little lovemaking in my novel. It is not that kind of novel. I have never been good at writing lovemaking. She also asked me if I would continue to write now that I was married. I told her of course, and this shocked her.

'But, my dear,' said Mrs. Martin. 'There will be--children.'

'I shall write when I am not tending to them,' I said cheerfully. 'And Mrs. Martin, they will have to sleep sometime.'

Before we left we went in to see Teddy's pictures. Mr. Martin had hung them side by side in his library. They were lovely and fanciful--both depicted scenes of the gods frolicking on Mt. Olympus. Only--Teddy has not completely gotten over putting my face in those he paints. Athena had decidedly pointed ears, and Persephone had a distinctly violet tinge in her eyes.

May 22, 19--

I tired of art museums and told Teddy we must do something different today. We've done all of the sightseeing--we've been in the Tour d'Eiffel three separate times. Teddy wants to paint the view. I wanted to shop for the folks at New Moon--I promised them all souvenirs. So while he went to paint, I went shopping. We planned to meet up for lunch.

I bought a lovely bottle of perfume for Aunt Laura and a new, lovely crocheted bonnet for Aunt Elizabeth. For Ilse I bought a silk parasol, and for Perry--that rouge!--a handsome tie that will look quite distinguished when he is standing up before Parliament. For Cousin Jimmy I got an old book of folk tales. He enjoys reading them and committing them to memory, and then repeating them to himself when he is busy working. Aunt Ruth was a challenge--I finally got her a brightly patterned scarf that I know she will never wear.

And I made a friend today. While I was browsing in a book store--for myself--I came across an old volume and I picked it up--it would be the perfect present for Dean. Then I put it down again--I haven't heard from Dean ever since that short note telling me that he was giving me and Teddy the Disappointed House--I mean, Evensong--to live in. I wouldn't even know where to find him. I wrote twice to his old address, but I have not heard back.

A tall, slim girl--about my age, or a little younger--with a pale cap of blonde hair was standing next to me. 'Oh!' she said. 'You must buy that book--I have it myself and it's ever so good.'

She blushed at being so forthright. She looked very familiar--I remembered that I'd seen her in one of the art lectures that Teddy has been dragging me to. She had asked a lot of intelligent, bright questions, and I liked that. I love people who aren't afraid to ask questions.

'I'm Emily Kent,' I said, catching myself before I said Emily Starr.

'I'm Betty,' said she, offering me her hand.

'Betty!' I laughed. 'You were in my art tour two days ago and you introduced yourself as Beth!'

'Because I was Beth then,' she said earnestly. 'My name is Elizabeth Grayson, but when I'm blue--not terribly blue, just a little--I'm always Beth. When I'm very down in the dumps I'm Lizzy, but I haven't been Lizzy for a while. Those art tours bore me senseless. Father drags me to them. He thinks I'm a Philistine. Today I'm happy and free--there's no art tour--so I'm Betty. I'm always Betty when I'm happy.'

I liked her immediately. And she is from Summerside, which isn't ten miles from New Moon! I met her father who came over after he had paid for his books, and found out that he and Aunt Elizabeth were in school together. He invited Teddy and me to his house for dinner tomorrow night. He wants to see this young artist he's heard so much about--and they've both read Moral of the Rose and they loved it! 'Little Elizabeth has read it three times,' Mr. Grayson said. That is what he calls his daughter: Little Elizabeth. It suits her--she is so delicate and otherworldly.

'I'm so glad to meet you,' said Little Elizabeth, giving me an impulsive kiss on the cheek before she went. 'An old friend of mine--Miss Shirley--and I drew a map of fairyland once--and there was a little fairy girl on it, who looked just like you. Are you sure you're not a fairy-person?'

I've always been sensitive about my pointed ears but I didn't mind it when Elizabeth said it. She is sweet and lovable and she takes the sting out of things.

May 26, 19--

Teddy and I have had our first fight.

I woke up this morning feeling peevish--I had a stuffy nose--my head throbbed--and it was gloomy. Not a nice, romantic gloom like it was when I first got here, but a flat, gray, dull sort of gloom. But it is hard to feel romantic when your nose is stuffed up.

Everything Teddy did annoyed me. He likes Little Elizabeth and her father. But he called Elizabeth a nice child, and somehow that seemed very condescending to me.

'For heaven's sake, Teddy,' I snapped. 'Stop acting like you're an old man.'

He had coffee sent up to the room when he knew I wanted tea. I didn't tell him, but I felt he should have known. So I was silent and accusatory through breakfast.

Teddy was going out and I didn't want to go. I watched him dress--had he always been so fastidious? He took two minutes to tie his tie. And then it wasn't tied to his liking so he untied it and did it again!

'Teddy!' I said finally. 'Tie and be done with it! I never knew you were such a fuss!'

Teddy had had enough of me by then, I suppose. He said nothing but he gave me a look. And left without giving me any kiss. I fell back against the pillows and sobbed after that--Teddy never takes his leave of me without giving me a kiss. 'Our marriage is doomed,' I thought. We hadn't been married for two weeks and already he didn't love me anymore! I saw in my minds eye ahead to the future--we would have to sell Evensong--and tell everyone that the marriage was finished--I saw all the way to the divorce courts. Or worse, I saw us living side by side like strangers, getting more and more tired with one another.

I cried myself back to sleep which wasn't good at all for my poor nose.

When I woke up I felt better. The stuffiness was almost gone and the weather had cleared--and Teddy came back with a bouquet of irises and a box of delicious chocolate croissants and a jug of café au lait. He greeted me with not one but two kisses--'Because I forgot to give you one before I left,' he explained.

'So you do love me?' I asked, still somewhat tearfully.

'How could I not?' Teddy said.

What a goose I'd been!

May 31, 19--

We spent a long time wandering the streets of Paris tonight--we stopped by the river Seine and watching the sunset. Tomorrow we are going home. It's been a wonderful dream to be here, amidst all of this beauty with the man I love so dearly--and who loves me!

I'm excited to go home--I miss the Aunts and Cousin Jimmy--I want to set up house in Evensong--I want to tell Ilse about everything that's happened. Uncle Jimmy writes that the apple tree in the garden of our new house has burst into bloom. He's gone down there every day to light a fire so the house won't be musty when we return. Ilse writes that she has news for me, too. Little Elizabeth will be back on the Island in September and she promises to come and visit.


Paris has been wonderful but--as someone very wise once said--

Be it ever so humble

There's no place like home!