Tubbs and Harkness went, though Mr. Tubbs
had dreadful neuralgia afterwards. Beryl and I read every evening.
I love the books. I think I've been hungry for them all my life and
didn't know it. We're playing a game to see which of us can read
the most. We can play forever because one day we counted the books
in the library and there are one thousand and seventy four and
Harkness says there are more in Christopher the Third's room.
Harkness has been telling us all about him and he showed us his
picture--you know, the one in the Dragon's sitting-room (I
apologize, in Aunt Mathilde's room) and he looked like a young
prince, didn't he? How will Aunt Mathilde ever reconcile herself to
a little insignificant, lame thing like me when she sees me?
Oh, I wish I could really _truly_ meet my good Fairy somewhere--the
one who forgot to attend my birth--and she'd give me one wish, I'd
just ask for one. And that wish would be to G-R-O-W. I never cared
before but now I want to be BIG. Oh, and wise! Mr. Tubbs will tell
you how stupid I am. A Forsyth ought to be big and wise.
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