-string to which
he was in duty bound.

This summer I am unusually fortunate, owing to a moment of clear vision
that I had forty-eight hours before leaving town. I had a Christian
Science cook, a real artist if given unlimited materials, and she didn't
mind loneliness, as she said that God is everywhere; to which I heartily
agreed. I know that He is on this hill-top. So far so good, but her idea
of obeying Mr. Hoover's precepts was not to mention that any staple was
out until the last moment. At about six o'clock she usually came
pussy-footing to my door in the tennis shoes she always wore, to tell me
that there wasn't a potato in the house, or any butter. Not so bad in
Pasadena, with a man to send to the store, but very trying on a smiling
hill-top, one mile from town, with me the only thing dimly suggestive of
a chauffeur on the place. At 3 A.M. I resolved to bounce her, heavenly
disposition and all. I did, and engaged a cateress for what I should
call a comfortable salary, rather than wages. She can get up a very
appetizing meal from sawdust and candle-ends, when necessary, and that
is certainly what is needed nowadays. Also, she has launched a wonderful
counter-offensive against the ants. There was a time when we ate our
meals surrounded by a magic circle like Brunhilde, but ours was not of
flames, but of ant powder. Not that they mind it much. I'm told that
they rather dislike camphor, but do you know the present price of that
old friend?

There are singularly few pests or blights in the garden itself. Bermuda
or devil grass is one of our Western specialties, though it may have
invaded the East, too, since we left. It is an unusually husky plant,
rooting itself afresh at every joint with new vigor, and quite choking
out the aristocratic blue grass with which we started our lawn. At first
you don't notice it as it sneaks along the ground, some time above and
some time below, as it feels disposed, and then suddenly you see it's
cobwebby outlines as plainly as the concealed animals in a newspaper
puzzle. If you begin to pull it out you can't stop. It reminds me of the
German system of espionage, and that adds zest to my weeding. The other
day I laboriously uprooted an intricate network of tentacles, all
leading to one big root, which I am sure must have been Wilhelmstrasse
itself. Being able to do so little to help win the war, this is a
valuable imaginative outlet to me!

Everything about the place, as well as the