I know, because at mealtimes and others, when he's been in the room with me, I've looked up and found his eyes on me.

Funny, isn't it?
* * * * * _Two weeks later_.
Well, I don't know as I have anything very special to say.

Still, I suppose I ought to write something; so I'll put down what little there is.
Of course, there doesn't so much happen here, anyway, as there does at home--I mean in Boston.

(I _must_ stop calling it home down to Boston as if this wasn't home at all.

It makes Aunt Jane very, very angry, and I don't think Father likes it very well.) But, as I was saying, there really doesn't so much happen here as there does down to Boston; and it isn't nearly so interesting.