Dear John,

I am up here alone trying to plan a tea I am giving next week for the Town girls at the college. It is really a job to describe what to serve and how to serve it. Sometimes I wonder and then I wonder. It will be the first time they have all been together for ages. We should have a few juicy arguments, especially since I have just been told we have no room for next year.

Yesterday at one o’clock I stopped school for a lovely vacation lasting nearly a month. Don’t be deceived, I really am not glad it is over, for now I have literally nothing to keep my busy but a little house cleaning and sewing. Next week I am going to Baltimore for a rest. After that I am going to take my kid brother to school in Ferrrum, Va. And stay a week at Roanoke, where I also hope to rest for I am weary and tired, having studied every night this summer but about two.

On my way home from Roanoke I may stop by Richmond for a while if you wanted to come meet me. It would be either Saturday or Sunday afternoon about four o’clock. It will be the last time I will be in your part of the country for months perhaps, until November anyway, unless I suddenly decide to come with the Leitchs to the fair. Maybe if I can save some money they will let me go, my parents I mean. Maybe we could meet each other then and have fun walking around the fair together. Anyway it is something to consider.

Last night I was around Leitch’s house. They are all upset by Paul’s leaving Hilldrup’s and going to Richmond to work for Horton. He doesn’t look at all well now. Frances hates to have him there, but maybe it will all turn out for the best as most things do. We went out to look at a little model home, which reminds one of a doll house. I felt awfully crushed in those small rooms after living in my enormous one for over a year.

Mama is calling me for dinner now, so I will continue later on. Everything smells so good. It is now evening and I am trying to figure out my schedule. It is really a pilly affair to straighten out. Reckon I will get someone to help me tomorrow. I went to the show with Mary Francis this afternoon. I nearly died laughing at it though unfortunately I don’t remember the name of it. It was about college in the good- old days. More lively than student life now. I also have the most tempting cake before me on the table, though I mustn’t touch anymore for twill do my girlish figure no good. Buddy is next door blowing on his horn, he never goes out anymore. I feel dreadfully sorry that he feels the way he does, for honestly, I think most people can overlook appearances. Maybe my ideals are idealistic rather than practical.

Have you decided what you are going to do this winter yet? When you do know, please tell me for I am very interested, you know. I’m surprised that Carlton has let any girl lead him around. He doesn’t seem to be the type, not to me at any rate. Well, Alain hasn’t come up yet, and if he doesn’t come now I should be away most probably. Doesn’t that settle and questions of doubt. Heaven only knows I don’t know where you get some of your ideas from- those about my relationship with Alian for instance. You should know better. But why talk about him- I’m much more interested in you. And in that connection I am not the only one guilty of waiting ages before writing. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to write again. Honest to goodness, let’s try to make prompt in writing now that we both have no more worries.

I have looked at the moon which stayed visible only a few minutes on Friday night. But during the next week it was beautiful. I hardly wanted to leave outdoors after walking from school, where I spent each evening cramming for exams.

Everything outdoors is dreary now. Melvin is so quiet upstairs that I know he must be in some mischief. By now I reckon you are tired of my constant chatter. Please write soon.

(That’s the way the faculty members indicated something they particularly wanted in the tea room. They gave me a bottle of perfume for serving them at lunch everyday.) Now I hear Melvin’s train whistle, I knew his quietness couldn’t last long. Well, be good and don’t you forget to think about me sometimes.

Love,

Margaret

p.s. don’t overlook my suggestion please.

p.s. no. 2 I liked your moon illustration, how about drawing some more.