Quentin turned up last night. He is half an inch taller than I am, and
is in great shape. He is much less fat than he was, and seems to be
turning out right in every way. I was amused to have him sit down and
play the piano pretty well. We miss you dreadfully now that Christmas
has come. The family went into revolt about my slouch hat, which Quentin
christened "Old Mizzoura," and so I have had to buy another with a less
pronounced crown and brim. We all drank your good health at dinner.