is time the chauffeur had been wrestling with the key ring, and
finally had our bare necessities in the way of doors open. I had
telegraphed our agent that I was coming only long enough before for
the house to have what is vulgarly known as "a lick and a promise,"
but it looked just as comfortable and pleasant as I knew that it
would, and the terrace--no need to bother about that. The south
wind does the housework there.

That night I went to sleep between sheets fragrant with lavender from my
own garden, while the ocean boomed gently on the beach below the hill.
In the week that followed I abolished a number of things. First of all,
meal hours. I had my meals when I felt like it; in fact, I didn't wind
the clock till I was leaving. I only did it then on account of the
tenants, as some people find the ticking of a clock and the chirping of
a cricket pleasant and cosy sounds. I don't. Then I cut out the usual
items from my bill of fare, and lived on young peas, asparagus, eggs,
milk, and fruit, with just a little bread and butter--not enough to
agitate Mr. Hoover. I never had had as much asparagus as I really wanted
before. I wore an old smock and a disreputable hat, and I pruned and dug
in my garden till I was tired, and then I lay on the terrace and watched
the waves endlessly gather and glide and spread. Counting sheep jumping
over a wall is nothing to compare with waves for soothing rasped nerves.

My first solitary day was so clear that the Pasadena Mountains, as we
call that part of the Sierra Madre, rose soft over the water on the far
horizon, so that I couldn't feel lonely with home in sight. Long unused
muscles expostulated with me, but smoothed-out nerves more than balanced
their twinges. Of course I couldn't forget the war. Who could,
especially with flocks of aeroplanes flying over me as I lay on a chaise
longue on the terrace, listening to the big guns of Camp Kearny roaring
behind the hills; but it no longer gave me the sensation of sand-paper
in my feelings. I thought about it all more calmly and realized a little
of what it is doing to us Americans--to our souls!--that is worth the
price; and in addition, how much it is teaching us of economy,
conservation, and efficiency, as well as more spiritual things.

It has also brought home to me the beauty of throwing away. In a fever
of enthusiasm to make every outgrown union suit and superfluous berry
spoon tell, I have ransacked my house from garret to cellar