Claflin Hall,
Sunday, Sept. 21, 1919.Dear Margaret:
I have been to early church and walked in a still, pearl-misted world, and breakfasted, and now the day is well upon us. One is very conscious that the days of stillness are done, but I find myself glad of the beginning tomorrow. This last week has been pandemonium.
Yesterday morning after the first Chapel service, always impressive and a bit terrifying too, for the solemn sense it gives one of what one ought to be and do in a job like this, - we had the formal opening of Founders Hall. There was an academic procession and a speech and many songs, and one liked the triumphant glint in the haggard young architect's eye, and the friendly grins of a last few workmen. There are thousands of things yet to be done but we really do begin classes there tomorrow.
I could not go to Annisquam after all for the Professor has turned over a good bit of extra work to me, work which involved a long procession of office hours. But there was real satisfaction in it for once for it did save her. - How is your Professor? I hope she is stronger than mine.
Did Helen tell you what a happy glimpse I had of her in Cambridge? She seemed nicer than ever and I resolved to admonish you not to mind her trees or worships.
Yesterday I saw the last of my Scotch child. She goes to Chicago tomorrow, stays with Mother Tuesday night, and embarks on her adventures the next day. She has next to nothing to live on, and I am dreadfully tempted to borrow for her from Emily's friend. But the child has rich relatives and I am not at all sure that it is not adventure rather than scholarship she is after. Give me some advice.
Of course you know that I never missed you quite so much as I do just now. I take it out in loving you. Do you feel it.
Yours,
Laura.I love this paper. It has such a serene and spacious air!