Friday, May 7th, 1869

Dear Diary,

I realize that a great deal of time has passed since I last wrote. The truth is that I lost you in the lab. The spiders there would not let you alone. You know how overrun the place is. It was only today that I gathered the strength of will to face the dreaded beasties in order to rescue you. I should never have built those ungrateful wretches! You know all too well the horrors of the lab, so I am certain you will forgive me for avoiding that particular room. Were you a person, I would no doubt owe you a lifetime of servitude for leaving you in that dreadful place for so long. Fortunately, you are only a book, so all I owe you now is a light dusting.

You will be pleased to know that I wrote out a few entries on scraps of paper, and so I have plenty of material, written in the heat of passion, from the last month.

I record these scraps here as I find them, some of them not being dated, and leave you to determine the correct chronology.

Your quite cowardly savior,

–Miss Palabra Puddlegum–

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