It’s been a mere 24 hours since Dot last wrote, and all she’s done in that time is sleep and clean her room, so there’s not much new to write about. Still, she likes the idea of having a chat with Dart.

She created a little cupboard to place on her bedside table for the purpose of neatly storing odds and ends of stationery. She left room on the table for Dart’s picture, of course.

She asks if the Navy gives Dart the day off for Washington’s birthday, but assumes they don’t. She suggests he keep close track of all the holidays he’s forced to work so he can take that many days off when he gets home. Clever girl!

She’s babysitting for Carter Ford and Mrs. Ford just called from NYC to say she won’t be home until very late. Poor Dot must drag herself to work tomorrow with very little sleep. “The idea doesn’t appeal to me at all, but who cares? No one. No one at all! I’m just a poor mistreated babysitter. Nobody loves me, everybody hates me. I’m going out and eat worms. Gruesome thought, but a wonderful night for the sport. It’s been rainy and foggy all day – a regular field day for worms. True, it has been rather chilly, but even worms must make sacrifices. They can’t be too fussy. After all, there’s a war on!”

She admits that previous paragraph is conclusive proof that she’s crazy, but she blames that on a dripping faucet and goes to turn it off.

She comes back, but still has nothing to say and it’s the end of a page, so she decides to try to get some sleep before Mrs. Ford comes back. By the way, she loves Dart very much.

There are no letters written by either Dot or Dart until February 26, but I’ll try to insert something of interest at least once in those three days.