OUR WEEKLY CHAT.
FAREWELL TO MONICA. This week the Budget family is Bad at heart over the departure of yet another member from the club ranks. Not only has Monica been known to Peter Pan and Wendy for some years through her letters and stories, but she became personally known to Wendy when she was convalescing after her recent illness. Last year Monica had the misfortune to crush her right hand in some machinery, and the bravery and fortitude she displayed over this accident won for her the admiration of the entire Budget staff. Monica's stories have been published regularly in the Budget for the past year, and, despite the handicaps she now works under, her work shows considerable promise. We say farewell to this Budget member and wish her all that is best and happiest in the coming years. 124, Victoria Road, Devonport, Auckland, N.I. Dear Peter Pan, — My farewell letter! How I hate to write it, but I suppose I must. You cannot imagine how sorry I am to leave the Budget, with the campaigns and competitions and friendliness. I wish I was like you —in tlie midst of it all. never having to leave and part with your Budget friends, although they often leave you. Even though they are just names, they seem so real, I feel I know them all. But I can still follow their progress and read their work, and join in tilt- campaigns. Thank goodness that is not denied me. The hardest wrench of all is parting with the Critique Corner. I value it so much. Perhaps if I seiul in my stories sometimes you will be kind enough to look • at them? I hope so, anyway. . Well, Peter Pan, there is nothing left ' now, but to give thanks to you and Wendy and all the other good' folk of - the Budget for the help you have given . me these last years, and the encourage- j ment. Be sure I will never forget you, i and I will always follow the doings of ] the Budget. Best of luck to everyone, ] and New Year greetings to all. i Your faithful ex-Budgetite, Monica Matheson.
FLASH. Kakalii. Dear Wendy,— I simply must write and tell you of Flash. Flash, I might say, is the darlingest little puppy, and by no means deserves its name, for he just rolls along on his little legs. lie has a fat, round little body, black, but splashed liberally with white, four stumpy little legs, which have their work cut out holding him up, an even stumpier little tail, two ragged little ears one of which persists in dropping over his left eye, and his eyes —don't think I'm poetic, Wendy, but his eyes—liquid brown depths (or is it pools) of mystery.
From the very first day when he gambolled, into our lives, a little tired puppy, lie lias captured our hearts, and lie lias kept tliem. But not so with Peter, the kitten. When this fluffy little ball of mischief was placed in front of Flash, he (the kitten) arched his back and spat. This was a new experience for Flash. He ambled up to Peter who, with a last spit, turned and fled. Flash looked up at us as if to say, "What did I do to offend?"' Oh, Wendy, you can't resist Flash. Yonr sincere Budgetite, Joan Davey.
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Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 21, 25 January 1936, Page 16 (Supplement)
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560OUR WEEKLY CHAT. Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 21, 25 January 1936, Page 16 (Supplement)
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