Patsy and her swarm of children arrived yesterday for a week to stay at Wortham. Thoughtful as she is, she left her husband behind at Richfield, where he will enjoy a week off. Mrs. P. and Patsy are currently fighting which of their children is the most beautiful, most amiable and most accomplished for it´s age. At the same time they´re praising the other mother´s respective squaller.
The weather is exceptionally warm for this time of year and I use it as an excuse to walk the garden as often as possible. But I´m not allowed to ride or take a drive in the carriage alone, means, with a footman. What do they think I´m doing!? I won´t run away with nothing except my clothes on or on a horse! Where should I go anyway? The only person I can think of is Harriet and they would assume this at first too. She wouldn´t betray me of course and had actually asked my parents if I could stay with her until the wedding. But they declined. I could very well meet her literary friends and run off with one of them. Mother is less persuaded of Mr. Osberton´s worth than Harriet´s own mother, who was just happy to have her married to anyone, bluestocking that she is - well, to them. Only because she reads books and can distinguish between good and bad prose and has the unfortunate habit of thinking for herself doesn´t make her a bluestocking. The more I value Mr. O!