April 10, 19--

I was right--something between Ilse and I has changed irrevocably. Ilse is very cordial and distant to me when we meet--her smiles seem wide enough to split her face--but her eyes are dull with unshed tears, and hard, with something in them that looks like--envy? Hatred?

Could Ilse, my dearest friend of so many years, hate me?

She and Perry have "declined with regret" every invitation that Teddy and I issued to them. Up until last week, when we had that late snowfall, I took myself up to Ilse's house at least every other day, to try and chat and fix this terrible coldness between us. But it was so exhausting. The conversation was so forced. Ilse and I, who once could not be apart for more than a day without missing each other, having absolutely nothing to talk about now. She doesn't ask me about our little forthcoming addition, I don't mention it. Though I am brimming with excitement, and in the days before, would have told Ilse every detail, every thought. When the snow fell the paths froze, and Teddy told me that I was not to go out, for fear that I would slip and fall. I was glad. I didn't want to suffer through another wordless afternoon, watching my beloved friend slip further and further away from me.

April 26, 19--

Little Elizabeth came today to cheer me--she is staying for a month. I haven't been well this spring. Ilse and I have not spoken in weeks. I suppose this is how it shall be from now on.

Teddy and I drove to meet her train--Little Elizabeth was the first one off. She ran to us happily, swinging her hat gaily, and hugged me so tight that I gave a little yelp. She is really such a dear. On the way back to New Moon--where she insists on staying even though Teddy and I have turned the second parlor downstairs into a guest room. The one upstairs we are using for a nursery for the baby.

On the ride back, Little Elizabeth pointed out all of the things that she remembered from her last visit.

"Oh, there is the Tomorrow Road! Hello, darling little road, I've seen you in my dreams. And someone has planted saplings in the Yesterday Road--soon it will be another road of Tomorrow. Oh, and Lofty John's bush! It looks so mysterious with those little dark-white pools of snow under the branches--they are like secret fairy worlds of winter. Is that Cousin Jimmy way over yonder, in that field! Let's stand and call to him. Oh, I can't wait to see everyone again!"

Teddy and I smiled at each other. We love Little Elizabeth--she is so childlike, though she is a grown girl. And a dear. Such a dear.

Aunt Elizabeth is in her element now that Little Elizabeth is here. They've already been making great plans for their time together.

I feel a thousand times more cheerful now that she has come.

May 10, 19--

I had a letter to-day--from Dean!

He has been this past season in Switzerland, having a new treatment on his back, that will help knit his bones together and make him far less hunched. He wrote to me once, at Christmas, from there, just a postcard of the Alps and the signature, Dean. It was addressed to Emily Starr, not Emily Kent. I suppose he just forgot I am Emily Kent now.

We have so much to talk about! I cannot wait to see him, but I must, because he has gone to Avonlea to visit some Priests there for the next week or two. I am going to have him over here some evening--I am already planning the dinner. Teddy smiles and goes along with my excitement, although he grumbles a bit because he knows that Dean loved me so, once upon a time.

But surely he is over that by now?

May 17, 19--

Little Elizabeth and I went to a book-fair in Shrewsbury yesterday. I do love a book-fair--I love seeing the neat and orderly stalls of books, each one a story, waiting to be read and understood. Little Elizabeth wanted to buy a book of poetry for her father, but I wanted a novel, so we went our separate ways to separate stalls. I was looking at the titles absently--picking books up and turning them over with my hand. I picked up a battered copy of Lady Chatterly's Lover--and saw my own face staring up at me from underneath! It was a copy of my book, Lost Charlotte, right there on the shelf!

I reached for it--my hand brushed against another--I pulled back, and looked up interestedly to see who it was who reached for my book. A head of shaggy, unkempt hair--peculiar greenish eyes--a frank, cynical smile--I knew that face! But--but--

"Dean!" I cried, throwing myself at him. "Dean, oh, Dean, I almost didn't recognize you!"

He stood up tall--and ramrod straight. He had no hunch at all to speak of! "My time in Switzerland has been worth it, then," he said. "There will be no one to call me Jarback Priest any longer."

He looked so good and happy that I just smiled and stared at him for a minute.

"But you," he said, taking my hand. "Look at you, Star. You're glowing. Well, well, you must have been busy." He grinned, holding up my book. "Finding lost Murrays and contributing more Kents to the world."

He gave a harsh laugh. Dean has never liked Teddy. Little Elizabeth walked over and took my arm then.

"Emily, I've found the book for Father--and I got the last copy! A tiny, wee old lady reached for it--but I snatched it from under her nose. And I only feel a little guilty--I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate it as it should be appreciated. Oh. Hello."

She saw Dean and crimsoned. "Elizabeth Grayson, this is Dean Priest," I said. "Dean, this is Little Elizabeth."

"Little Elizabeth," he said curiously. "Why--you are almost taller than me!"

She was--their heights were exactly equal. "It is a nickname," said the glib Little Elizabeth, who was suddenly tongue-tied.

Dean's face darkened. "You're lucky it's a kind one," he said, and excused himself, but not before he agreed to come for dinner the next night.

We watched him walk away, and I checked Little Elizabeth's expression to see what you thought of him. Dean is an odd duck and not everyone takes to him. Her face was rapt and she was still staring after him, although he had long disappeared into the crowd.

"Who was that man?" she said, more to herself than to me. "Oh, who was he?"

May 30, 19--

"A month, sweet Little-ones, is past"and Little Elizabeth is still here! She wrote to her father to ask last week if they might postpone their Paris trip--she wants to stay at New Moon another month. Her excuse is that it has been so rainy that she and Aunt Elizabeth haven't had time to do half the things on their list, but in my opinion, it is not only that, but something else.

Dean has been coming over most nights now. He says it is very lonely for him, rattling around in that old Priest Pond by himself. He and Teddy get along quite nicely, and have fought only once, over the physical appearance of the Roman goddess Juno. Teddy, the artist, thinks she must be blonde, and depicted her so in one of his latest paintings. Dean, the historian, is sure that she has dark-haired.

"With glossy hair of night--like Emily over there," he said.

They got into quite a heated argument, and Little Elizabeth and I just laughed at them, it was so absurd. Finally, Teddy and Dean looked sheepishly at each other and began to laugh, too. They shook hands and agreed that, in fact, Juno probably had red hair, that was blonde in some lights, and dark in others. It was a nice compromise, I think.

Dean offered to walk Little Elizabeth back home to New Moon that night when he left. He goes by there on his way to Priest Pond. I watched them go down the lane, walking slowly and talking to one another. How tall and stately Dean is now! He is very gentle around Little Elizabeth--he doesn't treat her so cynically as he does the rest of us. In return, she is very sweet to him--and earnest. Sometimes I catch them looking at each other and I wonder if Dean--and Little Elizabeth--but no, I won't write it. Gossip is the tool of the Man Below--or so Aunt Elizabeth says.

June 7, 19---

I saw Ilse in the store yesterday. Our eyes met across the aisle--I almost went to her--but something in her gaze stopped me. She was looking at me so intently and with a look I couldn't scrutinize. Then she turned and hastened away.

I came home and cried a little over our lost friendship.

Teddy finished a painting of Little Elizabeth today, and stood it against the porch wall to dry. It is very like her--her delicate face in profile, her pale white hair--the faint flush of roses in her cheeks--her strong shoulders, rising like alabasted out of her dress. By dinnertime I had dried my eyes and was downstairs looking at it, when Deam ambled up and sat by me.

"Can I--?" he began haltingly, catching Teddy by the arm when appeared, "May I--?" He shook his head as if to clear it. "I must have a copy of that painting."

Teddy agreed and said he would make one. When he had gone I looked at Dean slyly--yes, Aunt Ruth, for once in my life I was sly.

"Little Elizabeth is so sweet," I said inanely, hoping he would say something.

"Yes," he said absently. "Very. It is one of the reasons why I love her."

I sat, stunned--I hadn't expected him to reveal so much!

"That is wonderful, Dean," I said. "Just wonderful."

Dean, still studying the early evening moon that had just begin to show overhead, gave a harsh laugh. "Do you think she could love me?"

He had the pitying voice he gets at times, so I was sarcastic with him. "No," I said, in a cutting voice. "Of course not! She couldn't be."

Dean was silent a while longer. I gave a sigh.

"Dean," I said. "You are the best and wisest, nicest and gentlest man I know."

"Second best," Dean corrected me, with a smirk.

"Best," I said. "Because I didn't--love--you like that, doesn't mean anyone else can't, either. Oh, Dean, you aren't Jarback Priest anymore--you never were what everyone believed you to be. Why do you believe you are?"

Little Elizabeth came in, so we let the subject drop. Her face was very red and she looked almost angry. She did not talk to me very much and when she did it was to say flippant little things in a queer shaking voice that was very un-Little Elizabeth-like. After a bit I excused myself, and went up to bed.