got the instrument free at last and Mr. Dussel went on with his work, as if nothing had happened.
This he did so quickly that Mrs. van Daan didn’t have time to start any fresh tricks. But he’d never had so much help in all his life before. Two assistants are pretty useful: van Daan and I performed our duties well. The whole scene looked like a picture from the Middle Ages entitled A Quack at Work. In the meantime, however, the patient hadn’t much patience; she had to keep an eye on her soup and her meal. One thing is certain, Mrs. van Daan won’t be in such a hurry to allow herself to be treated again!
Yours, Anne
Sunday, 13 December, 1942
Dear Kitty, I’m sitting cozily in the main office, looking outside through a slit in the curtain. It is dusk but still just light enough to write to you.
It is a very queer sight, as I watch the people walking by, it looks just as if they are all in a terrible hurry and nearly trip over their own toes. With cyclists, now, one simply can’t keep pace with their speed. I can’t even see what sort of person is riding on the machine.
The people in this neighbourhood don’t look very attractive. The children especially are so dirty you wouldn’t want to touch them with a barge pole. Real slum kids with running noses. I can hardly understand a word they say.
Yesterday afternoon Margot and I were having a bath here and I said, “Supposing we were to take the children who are walking past, one by one, hoist them up with a fishing rod, give them each a bath, wash and mend their clothes, and then let them go again, then...” Margot interrupted me, “By tomorrow they would look just as filthy and ragged as before.”
