the wheat won't get spoilt any more;
Gee-Gee, herself, of--of something which she's almost afraid to think
about.

Dinky-Dunk, in his deviling moods, says I'm an old married woman now,
that I'm settled, that I've eaten my pie! Perhaps I have. I'm not
imaginative, so I must depend on others for my joy of living. I know now
that I can never create, never really express myself in any way worth
while, either on paper or canvas or keyboard. And people without
imagination, I suppose, simply have to drop back to racial
simplicities--which means I'll have to have a family, and feed hungry
mouths, and keep a home going. And I'll have to get all my art at
second-hand, from magazines and gramophone records and plaster-of-Paris
casts. Just a housewife! And I so wanted to be something more, once! Yet
I wonder if, after all, the one is so much better than the other? I
wonder? And here comes my Dinky-Dunk, and in three minutes he'll be
kissing me on the tip of the chin and asking me what there's going to be
good for supper! And that is better than fame! For all afternoon those
twelve little lines of Dobson's have been running through my head:

Fame is a food that dead men eat--
I have no stomach for such meat.
In little light and narrow rooms,
They eat it in the silent tombs,
With no kind voice of comrade near
To bid the banquet be of cheer.

But Friendship is a noble thing--
Of Friendship it is good to sing,
For truly when a man shall end,
He lives in memory of his friend
Who doth his better part recall
And of his faults make funeral!

But when you put the word "love" there instead of "friendship" you make
it even better.... Olga, by the way, is not so stupid as you might
imagine. She's discovered something which I didn't intend her to find
out.... And Olie, also by the way, has solved the problem of "breaking
up" my setting hens. He has made a swinging coop with a wire netting
bottom, for all the world like the hanging gardens of Babylon, and into
this all the ruffled mothers-to-be have been thrust and the coop hung up
on the hen-house wall. Open wire is a very uncomfortable thing to set
on, and these hens have at last discovered that fact. I have been out
looking at them. I never saw such a parliament of solemn indignation.
But their pride has been broken, and they are beginning to show a
healthier interest in their meals.

_Tuesday the Tenth_

I've been wondering if Dinky-Dunk is going t