I like him so much it makes me uncomfortable, because I am afraid he is thinking that perhaps I could care something for him. I can’t tell him about Ken—because, after all, what is there to tell? And yet I don’t like to behave coldly and distantly when he will be going away so soon. It is very perplexing. I remember I used to think it would be such fun to have dozens of beaux—and now I’m worried to death because two are too many.
“I am learning to cook. Susan is teaching me. I tried to learn long ago—but no, let me be honest—Susan tried to teach me, which is a very different thing. I never seemed to succeed with anything and I got discouraged. But since the boys have gone away I wanted to be able to make cake and things for them myself and so I started in again and this time I’m getting on surprisingly well. Susan says it is all in the way I hold my mouth and father says my subconscious mind is desirous of learning now, and I daresay they’re both right. Anyhow, I can make dandy short-bread and fruit cake. I got ambitious last week and attempted cream puffs, but made an awful failure of them. They came out of the oven flat as flukes. I thought maybe the cream would fill them up again and make them plump but it didn’t. I think Susan was secretly pleased. She is past mistress in the art of making cream puffs and it would break her heart if anyone else here could make them as well. I wonder if Susan tampered—but no, I won't suspect her of such a thing.
“Miranda Pryor spent an afternoon here a few days ago, helping me cut out certain Red Cross garments
