January 30, 1916.
It has been so cold and damp to-day that I could not get warm even in bed. I like sleeping out in the little tent and as a rule sleep very well—have a cup of hot tea when they wake us at six o’clock. I wear two pair of socks, beside the rooms are not so frightfully damp since we got up the little stoves; they get dried out once a day, which is a great advantage.
I am sending you some snap shots of my little kitty. We call her “Antoinette” after the aeroplane, for she makes a noise like the aeroplane when she sings.
When I have a chance I shall go back to Divonne for a rest—it is too far to go home—but there does not seem any chance of it at present. The English nurses who have been here six months will have to go first, and we are more than busy. There are two new nurses coming next week—Canadians, I think. It is very difficult to get nurses up here, there is so much red tape to go through.
You must not worry about me, for I am really very well. The cold and simple life is very healthy, even if it is not always comfortable. I seem to be as strong as an ox and the more I have to do the better I feel.
It is joyful to hear that I am to have some more money. St. John people certainly have been good. A box came to-day from Trinity, it had been opened. There is the ambulance, I must run.