The second volume of Pearl’s diary is filled with entries that specify a month but not a year. Chronologically, it appears a hopeless case, however there are two main clusters of writing periods, from February to March and from February to June. It’s not clear if these are overlapping time frames or if they refer to spring months for different years.

     The bulk of the material seems to take place in 1925.

     Volume 2 begins on January 30, 1925 when Pearl wrote this: “My heart is just as heavy as on that sad day. I’ve lost almost all interest in life.”

     Her dissatisfaction with life more than likely had something to do with her inability to find a companion, which she blamed on her handicap.

     “Sunday morning dawned cold and blue,” she wrote in February. “I had a feeling he was coming. I had not long to wait for he came real early. To my surprise he came in and set down so near me that I could have kicked him with my foot. He got up for some thing and when he set down again he set down on a bed that my chair was tilted back again. He was so clost that time his knee was against my knee. If he had only knew how I loved him and how his nearness caused my heart to beat wildly, he might not have set so clost to me and caused me to suffer untold misery. He got up to spit and motioned for a girl that was there to get in his place. Of course, I would have much rather for my darling boy to sit there as her but I couldn’t stand it no longer. I was afraid Cora would come in and see my confused look and guess the cause of my blushed face. As I have said she didn’t like him. Probably would talk about him. I would rather for them all to talk about him than her for she can say such hurtful things. No body likes to hear some one they love talked about. I love him and I can’t help it. Oh Lord, grant my earnest prayer. Cause him, oh Lord, to love me as I love him.”

     The mysterious object of Pearl’s affection was clearly the primary motive for her taking up a pencil and recording her thoughts.

     “Sunday morning all gone but just mother, Inez and me,” Pearl wrote in March. “I was primping up a little. I had one shoe on and one off when some one knocked at the door. Inez jumped to open it and who should it be but my sweet dream boy who came in smiling so happily and as always sit down facing me again and what causes him to sit down facing me always so clost too I can’t tell. It all happens just as if I had planned it out with him but a higher power rules our feeling. It must be the Lord’s will. I should love [name omitted] but he never speaks to me no more than if I wasn’t in miles of him but I would rather that than pity from my dear for I couldn’t stand it. Well, he didn’t stay long.”

     “News of a joyous nature but not satisfying,” Pearl wrote later in March, “but it will be after while. Every little drought is sweetened by… Aw, I don’t know what.”

     “Diary dear, you are the only thing I can tell my days and sorrows to,” Pearl wrote even later in March, “but it has been some time since I have told you any thing much of interest.”

     In the subsequent months of early summer, Pearl took a break from her diary-keeping, preferring instead to scribble down various items of interest.

     “The happier persons are those who don’t have much sense and don’t seem to know it,” Pearl wrote.

     Poems followed.

     “If to me your heart is true, send me back my bow of blue. If of me you sometimes think, send me back my bow of pink. If for me your love is dead, send me back my bow of red. If you do not wish me back, then send this bow of black.”