The new creature eats too much fruit. We are going to run short, most
likely. “We” again—that is its word; mine too, now, from hearing it so
much. Good deal of fog this morning. I do not go out in the fog myself.
The new creature does. It goes out in all weathers, and stumps right in
with its muddy feet. And talks. It used to be so pleasant and quiet
here.