INSTALLMENT IV

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March 31, 1928

Unfortunately, I must start this installment with a few sharp notices.

First of all, a number of my fellow house-mates have been reading this and have not liked what they read. To spare me the embarrassment of revealing my private thoughts to them but still allow them to reach you readers, Harp's Manor will no longer be receiving the Saturday Gazette. This way, Connolly will stop bugging me about retracting what I have said about him!

Secondly, I'm not writing with the intention of ruining anyone's reputation. These are only my personal opinions and thoughts. If the public cannot handle them without making a giant fuss, then I will be unable to continue sharing them.

Lastly, I am allowed to freely say whatever I want, but this does not mean I am obliged to say what I don't want. If anyone has issues with my narrative structure, just understand that many events happen over the course of the week, and I am simply cherry picking the ones that are either important or involve one of my fellow house-mates.

Mr. Forrest spoke with me on Saturday after he read the third installment of this narrative. "I must be careful what I say around you!" he joked. "You're the eyes and ears of the public."

"Did I write something that you didn't want known?" I asked.

"Not yet, at least, but at this rate you will by next Saturday. Before you write down a conversation of ours, just ask me first. There are parts of everyone's life that they don't want blasted out to the public."

Bridget Burgess also hunted me down. "Hey hon," she said, entering my room without a knock. "I read your article the other day! I didn't know you were spying on us!"

"I'm not spying," I defended. "This is what Mr. Harp told me to do."

"I'm just joshing with you, of course I'm not accusing you of anything. Hey, I was thinking, if you're writing to the public, then why don't you write a letter to them from me?"

"I'd be glad to. What do you want to say?"

"Okay, it starts- do you have your typewriter ready?- okay. It starts, 'Dear fans, thank you for reading the serial Harp's Manor. It just gives me the heebie-jeebies to think of how many wonderful people there are out there, following our adventures.' Are you getting this all? My, you're quite the speedy typer! Anyway, it continues, 'I just wanted to show you all my appreciation for the dedication and support you've shown for the last few weeks. You're truly the bee's knees! Signed, XOXO Bridget.'"

That was the letter she wished for you all to receive. Make of it what you will.

The last encounter I must review before I begin the meat of my narrative, if you will, was with Jones Leigh. I had met him during dinner, and thought him a respectable man enough. Mr. Leigh is very optimistic, at least when I've talked to him, and is always tapping his foot to some soundless beat. Unfortunately, our next major encounter was a near catastrophe.

I was making my way down the east staircase for a walk, hoping to clear my head a bit after writing, when I heard a yell and a thud behind me. The next thing I knew, the two of us were tumbling down the stairs together! It's a miracle neither of us were hurt beyond a few small bruises.

We landed on the ground floor with a great, echoing crash. Mr. Leigh was instantly on his feet, holding out a hand for me. I accepted it, rising slowly so as not to upset the tumult in my head further. "I'm real sorry," he was saying. "I have no idea how that happened. I was just walking along- I didn't mean to hit you- are you okay?"

"What happened?"

"It felt like someone pushed me. I don't see anyone up there, though. I suppose I must've tripped. I'm really very sorry. Are you sure you're okay?"

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