Bright, cold. Somehow I hate this day — at least the greater part of it. I sat down at Mrs. Marsh’s for 45 minutes while she visited with some unexpected company, and then had to go back at 1:00 for my lesson. I couldn’t help hearing most of the conversation, a part of which was Mrs. Marsh’s declaring that Wilkie was making a fool of himself in Europe; that England and Europe should fight their own battles and leave us alone; that the Germans couldn’t come over here, anyway, because we’re 130 million strong. Holy! Such ignorance! Mom was so mad when I told her, she almost called Mrs. Marsh up and told her so. Letter from Mary. Funny. To town in afternoon. Typed at Pap’s office. Helen with me. Tomorrow — fatal day! Will meet Pie. Am going to Sunday School and church with Mary.