Mrs. van D. is trembling because of the planes, which take no notice of the speech but fly blithely on toward Essen,
Father is slurping his tea, and Margot and I are united in a sisterly way by the sleeping Mouschi, who has taken possession of both our knees.
Margot's hair is in curlers and my nightgown is too small, too tight and too short.
It all looks so intimate, cozy and peaceful, and for once it really is. Yet I await the end of the speech with dread.
They're impatient, straining at the leash to start another argument!
Pst, pst, like a cat luring a mouse from its hole, they goad each other. Yours, Anne
TUESDAY, MARCH 28, 1944
My dearest Kitty, As much as I'd like to write more on politics, I have lots of other news to report today.
First, Mother has virtually forbidden me to go up to Peter's, since, according to her, Mrs. van Daan is jealous.
Second, Peter's invited Margot to join us upstairs. Whether he really means it or is just saying it out of politeness, I don't know.
Third, I asked Father if he thought I should take any notice of Mrs. van Daan's jealousy and he said I didn't have to.
What should I do now? Mother's angry, doesn't want me going upstairs, and wants me to go back to doing my homework in the room I share with Dussel.
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