A- very good till just before dinner was over, then, for why I cannot guess, poorly? She got into crying mood and cried bitterishly after dinner was over. I sat silent and merely asked once if she was very poorly, then took no further notice.
Cousin very gently in the morning before breakfast and pretty much during the day, but I did not put anything on.
Incurred a cross last night thinking of M-, the only thing the thought of her is good for.
Had Oddy upstairs half hour explaining the nature of the Lord’s supper.
Near quarter hour with A-, she crying. And when I asked if anything was the matter, she said she had rather I left her alone. I will, my love, so goodnight – and came away. What an unhappy being!
A- wrong, perhaps because I told John Dixon to sit with the women behind us, I made George open the gates and went back, and told John, who was standing in the road, or street, to follow A- and me. A- cried all the way back, but I took no notice. Poor thing, what a pity.
With A- quarter till eleven – all in tears and wrong but I take no notice – she must cry it out her own way.
A- told me at breakfast that she thought she would give notice to pay Mr Grey and would sell navigation stock to the amount, that is, for eight thousand.
In A-‘s letter from her sister last night she said little Ewan talked of Aunty Walker and ditto Lister.
[½ asleep, we sat a little] Not from sleepiness but because A- was out of sorts – perhaps because I had forgotten the wine at dinner. I took no notice and she came right again.
I wrote for A- the copy of these two last paragraphs – she well satisfied with me.
A- rather wrong and so she hurried off, but she came right again before dinner.