At the bottom of the box was a little brown book . It was small and thin , like a girl 's exercise book , with leaves that had once been blue and pink , but were now quite faded , and stained in places . On the fly leaf was written , in a very delicate hand , `` Emily Margaret Leith , '' and the same writing covered the first few pages of the book . The rest were not written on at all . We sat there on the floor , Diana and I , and read the little book together , while the rain thudded against the window panes . June 19 , 18 -- I came to-day to spend a while with Aunt Margaret in Charlottetown . It is so pretty here , where she lives -- and ever so much nicer than on the farm at home . I have no cows to milk here or pigs to feed . Aunt Margaret has given me such a lovely blue muslin dress , and I am to have it made to wear at a garden party out at Brighton next week . I never had a muslin dress before -- nothing but ugly prints and dark woolens . I wish we were rich , like Aunt Margaret . Aunt Margaret laughed when I said this , and declared she would give all her wealth for my youth and beauty and light-heartedness . I am only eighteen and I know I am very merry but I wonder if I am really pretty . It seems to me that I am when I look in Aunt Margaret 's beautiful mirrors . They make me look very different from the old cracked one in my room at home which always twisted my face and turned me green . But Aunt Margaret spoiled her compliment by telling me I look exactly as she did at my age . If I thought I 'd ever look as Aunt Margaret does now , I do n't know what I 'd do . She is so fat and red . June 29 . Last week I went to the garden party and I met a young man called Paul Osborne .
He is a young artist XXXXX Montreal who is boarding over at Heppoch .
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