From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:
I can’t forget Suzanne. I don’t think I want to. Aunt Tillie says she is in heaven but I don’t think heaven sounds so wonderful. All the people play harps and I don’t like harps. I once heard a lady play one at the Orpheum. It was tinkly-winkly and blurry. I prefer the piano and I like violins too. Anyhow I don’t think I want to go there. Alma says shame on me, don’t I want to see all the people I used to love like Uncle Harold’s friend, he always took me to the park and to the beach too until he got killed riding a horse. That is, he was killed because the horse threw him and he died on the ground. I said that of course I would like to see the people I loved but what about the ones that I didn’t love. Like Brigitte, a maid we used to have who always slapped me when she thought no one was looking. When Brigitte was sick, I prayed that she would die and she did, and I wouldn’t want to see her in heaven.