Tuesday.
Dear Enemy:
You doctored the whole house, then stalked past my library with your
nose in the air, while I was waiting tea with a plate of Scotch scones
sitting on the trivet, ordered expressly for you as a peace-offering.
If you are really hurt, I will read the Kallikak book; but I must tell
you that you are working me to death. It takes almost all of my energy
to be an effective superintendent, and this university extension course
that you are conducting I find wearing. You remember how indignant you
were one day last week because I confessed to having stayed up until one
o'clock the night before? Well, my dear man, if I were to accomplish all
the vicarious reading you require, I should sit up until morning every
night.
However, bring it in. I usually manage half an hour of recreation after
dinner, and though I had wanted to glance at Wells's latest novel, I
will amuse myself instead with your feeble-minded family.
Life of late is unco steep. Obligingly yours,
S. McB.