HB Journal for Feb 17, 1939

What a difference the pen makes. This one is Harry's. I am in my everyday clothes, leaving my new pen upstairs in my good coat. My old pen is here, but it is empty.

By the looks of things, my head is empty too; and, till I am done, my page will be empty.

Morris cut his hand badly at the mill today. We worked overtime but of our own free will. We are expecting to get a busy day tomorrow.

I didn't go away but dressed, or watched Mother dress, four of my hens for the supper tomorrow afternoon.