Dearest Margaret -When did I last write? Not since my Christmas thank you for the darling "hanky"? But I've been - What have I been? A dozen things. Discarding is my job now. I've refused to be Sunday School superintendent and state publicity chairman of the (women's) Liberty Loan and school commissioner (maybe I wouldn't have been elected) and I've dropped my title of Director of Girls' Work at the Community House! What a mess of a list! And tomorrow I cast my first vote - I'm sure I'm going to vote for Jim Dunn and Ellen Cramton and the abutter's law (mayor & school commissioner in order) and a number of other things not so positive.
I've helped Edith get a show out of a skit she did - "Miss America Carries on Through Four Years of the War" - first and third act an extravaganza - which is to be put on at the Community House as a Church benefit this month. And I've sold two tales to Harper's magazine. And Dad's not been well. That's my history in the sketchiest way since I last wrote.
Dad is feeling better now though. He had, evidently, a touch of "flu" last fall and it left him in bad shape - treacherous thing! - so finally he approached as near as he could ever come to going to bed - week before last. It did him good and he is back in the office now, no outside practice for a while.
We've got our new minister installed - fluent preacher, too young in some ways, English, with an English wife, rather impractical ways and surprising fields of obtuseness. But the installation gave us a chance to see Arthur Bradford again, which was a joy. You had him Christmas Sunday, I understand. We miss him and [...] frightfully. She is bewitching. Likewise the cutest youngsters.
I'm wondering how your multitudinous freshmen have treated you. Hope they didn't wear you out. Charlotte Drake came up from The Council at college - told me things - talked of you. I'm thankful we're out for endowment. It will probably be hard to get now. But what of that?
The tulips are pushing through here and there in the garden' also the first narcissus. They'd better look out - rash things! But you never can tell this year.
Aunt Mary sends love and so do I. How is the small but by this time very sprightly Ruth?
Give her aunt a squeeze for me,
Lovingly,
BethRutland - March third