From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:
I wonder if my father will take me to the Orpheum again and to the same beautiful restaurant he took me to the last time he was here. My father is very nice. Last time he let me order just what I wanted for lunch. It was French fried potatoes and ice cream together. I can never have that at home. My father plays the flute. Once he let me blow into it but I couldn’t, I could only spit in it.