We felt very melancholy after you and Ted left and the house seemed
empty and lonely. But it was the greatest possible comfort to feel that
you both really have enjoyed school and are both doing well there.
Tom Quartz is certainly the cunningest kitten I have ever seen. He is
always playing pranks on Jack and I get very nervous lest Jack
should grow too irritated. The other evening they were both in the
library--Jack sleeping before the fire--Tom Quartz scampering about, an
exceedingly playful little wild creature--which is about what he is. He
would race across the floor, then jump upon the curtain or play with
the tassel. Suddenly he spied Jack and galloped up to him. Jack, looking
exceedingly sullen and shame-faced, jumped out of the way and got
upon the sofa, where Tom Quartz instantly jumped upon him again. Jack
suddenly shifted to the other sofa, where Tom Quartz again went after
him. Then Jack started for the door, while Tom made a rapid turn under
the sofa and around the table, and just as Jack reached the door leaped
on his hind-quarters. Jack bounded forward and away and the two went
tandem out of the room--Jack not reappearing at all; and after about
five minutes Tom Quartz stalked solemnly back.
Another evening the next Speaker of the House, Mr. Cannon, an
exceedingly solemn, elderly gentleman with chin whiskers, who certainly
does not look to be of playful nature, came to call upon me. He is a
great friend of mine, and we sat talking over what our policies for the
session should be until about eleven o'clock; and when he went away I
accompanied him to the head of the stairs. He had gone about half-way
down when Tom Quartz strolled by, his tail erect and very fluffy. He
spied Mr. Cannon going down the stairs, jumped to the conclusion that he
was a playmate escaping, and raced after him, suddenly grasping him by
the leg the way he does Archie and Quentin when they play hide and
seek with him; then loosening his hold he tore down-stairs ahead of Mr.
Cannon, who eyed him with iron calm and not one particle of surprise.
Ethel has reluctantly gone back to boarding-school. It is just after
lunch and Dulany is cutting my hair while I dictate this to Mr. Loeb. I
left Mother lying on the sofa and reading aloud to Quentin, who as usual
has hung himself over the back of the sofa in what I should personally
regard as an exceedingly uncomfortable attitude to listen to literature.
Archie we shall not see until this evening, when he will suddenly
challenge me either to a race or a bear play, and if neither invitation
is accepted will then propose that I tell a pig story or else read aloud
from the Norse folk tales.