in the midst of a never-ending chilliness!

_Tuesday the Eighth_

My husband is home again. He came back with the first blizzard of the
winter and had a hard time getting through to Casa Grande. This gives
him all the excuses he could desire for railing at prairie life. I
told him, after patiently listening to him cussing about everything in
sight, that it was plain to see that he belonged to the land of the
beaver. He promptly requested to know what I meant by that.

"Doesn't the beaver regard it as necessary to dam his home before he
considers it fit to live in?" I retorted. But Duncan, in that
estranging new mood of his, didn't relax a line. He even announced, a
little later on, that a quick-silver wit might be all right if it
could be kept from running over. And it was my turn to ask if he had
any particular reference to allusions.

"Well, for one thing," he told me, "there's this tiresome habit of
hitching nicknames on to everything in sight."

I asked him what names he objected to.

"To begin right at home," he retorted, "I regard 'Dinkie' as an
especially silly name for a big hulk of a boy. I think it's about time
that youngster was called by his proper name."

I'd never thought about it, to tell the truth. His real name, I
remembered, was Elmer Duncan McKail. That endearing diminutive of
"Dinkie" had stuck to him from his baby days, and in my fond and
foolish eyes, of course, had always seemed to fit him. But even
Gershom had spoken to me on the matter, months before, asking me if I
preferred the boy to be known as "Dinkie" to his school mates. And I'd
told Gershom that I didn't believe we could get rid of the "Dinkie" if
we wanted to. His father, I knew, had once objected to "Duncan," as he
had no liking to be dubbed "Old Duncan" while his offspring would
answer to "Young Duncan." And "Duncan," as a name, had never greatly
appealed to me. But it is plain now that I have been remiss in the
matter. So hereafter we'll have to make an effort to have our little
Dinkie known as Elmer. It's like bringing a new child into the family
circle, a new child we're not quite acquainted with. But these things,
I suppose, have to be faced. So hereafter my laddie shall officially
be known as "Elmer," Elmer Duncan McKail. And I have started the ball
rolling by duly inscribing in his new books "Elmer D. McKail" and
requesting Gershom to address his pupil as "Elmer."

I've been wondering, in the meantime, if Dunca