She laughs at things I consider the most sacred and calls me a romantic girl , in a tone of humorous toleration . I am chilled and thrown back on myself , and the dreams and confidences I am bubbling over with have no outlet . Sara could n't understand -- she is so practical . When I go to her with some beautiful thought I have found in a book or poem she is quite likely to say , `` Yes , yes , but I noticed this morning that the braid was loose on your skirt , Beatrice . Better go and sew it on before you forget again . ' A stitch in time saves nine . ' '' When I come home from a concert or lecture , yearning to talk over the divine music or the wonderful new ideas with her , she will say , `` Yes , yes , but are you sure you did n't get your feet damp ? Better go and change your stockings , my dear . ` An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure . ' '' So I have given up trying to talk things over with Sara . This old journal will be better . Last night Sara and I went to Mrs. Trent 's musicale . I had to sing and I had the loveliest new gown for the occasion . At first Sara thought my old blue dress would do . She said we must economize this summer and told me I was entirely too extravagant in the matter of clothes . I cried about it after I went to bed . Sara looked at me very sharply the next morning without saying anything . In the afternoon she went uptown and bought some lovely pale yellow silk organdie . She made it up herself -- Sara is a genius at dressmaking -- and it was the prettiest gown at the musicale . Sara wore her old grey silk made over .
Sara does n't care anything XXXXX dress , but then she is forty .
At about after from in of to with without worth