Wednesday, June 9, 1869

Dear Diary,

I have had an eventful time of things, as of late. First and foremost, I joined a dance troupe. You now have the honor of being the confidante of a bona fide “Cookie Girl.” We performed for Mr. Ortega’s birthday bash in Steelhead and, as a result, we managed to earn a great deal of money for Relay for Life. The troupe is a burlesque troupe, but I little think it matters. Steelhead is a bit wilder, you know, it being a colony, than my native Caledon.

If nothing else, this new calling of mine has presented itself as an alternative last resort to selling my store. To be a dancing girl is a shameful vocation, yes, but it may prove profitable. In just one night, I earned thousands for Relay for Life. Lord Lunar even paid handsomely for the privilege of dancing with me after the show. I am loathe to compromise my reputation or to set a poor example for my students, but if my choice is between that and being quite literally at the mercy of a demon, I must choose the former.

If luck holds, that dreadful choice may be averted altogether. For the time being, at least, I have thwarted Mr. P.’s nefarious plans by selling off several personal items in order to raise the funds in order to make timely payments. That buys me at least a little bit of time. I hope Miss Dragonash and Captain Wytchwood can use it to my advantage. They are better versed in demons and magic than I could ever hope to be, especially Miss Dragonash. Gordon has also offered his assistance, so that may also purchase a day or two of relief. He cannot lie, but he can creatively interpret my financial situation so that it appears more to my advantage than to my disadvantage. He has a gentle soul, and I am fortunate to have a friend so deeply embedded amongst Mr. P. and his minions.

The real cause for my good cheer, however, is a very pleasant evening spent in very pleasant company. I am not just now at leisure to describe last night with the fullness that it deserves, but suffice it to say that my wish concerning Mr. MacBeth was most magically granted.

Until I write again, Diary, I remain —

Your Joyful,

–Miss Palabra Puddlegum–

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