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 from Montreal who is boarding over at Heppoch . He is the handsomest man I have ever seen -- very tall and slender , with dreamy , dark eyes and a pale , clever face . I have not been able to keep from thinking about him ever since , and to-day he came over here and asked if he could paint me . I felt very much flattered and so pleased when Aunt Margaret gave him permission . He says he wants to paint me as `` Spring , '' standing under the poplars where a fine rain of sunshine falls through . I am to wear my blue muslin gown and a wreath of flowers on my hair . He says I have such beautiful hair . He has never seen any of such a real pale gold . Somehow it seems even prettier than ever to me since he praised it . I had a letter from home to-day . Ma says the blue hen stole her nest and came off with fourteen chickens , and that pa has sold the little spotted calf . Somehow those things do n't interest me like they once did . July 9 . The picture is coming on very well , Mr. Osborne says . I know he is making me look far too pretty in it , although her persists in saying he ca n't do me justice . He is going to send it to some great exhibition when finished , but he says he will make a little water-color copy for me .
He comes every day XXXXX paint and we talk a great deal and he reads me lovely things out of his books .
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