Saturday, November twenty-third.
It dawned calm with rain hanging in the air. We hurried with our breakfast in the hope that we should get off; but within an hour at the turn of the tide the northwest wind whipped down from the mountains and the rain fell in torrents. And now at a late hour of the night it still rains although the wind has fallen. We felled a tree to-day and partly cut it up. Although it was dismally dark all the time I managed to paint a little. And I wrote much and drew in black and white. Rockwell has been industrious as usual, drawing at my side. He told me an amusing anecdote of little Kathleen that is worthy to go down here. When in play she wants to change her doll’s name she sends for the pretend doctor, again herself, and he operates on the doll. Cutting a hole in her stomach he stuffs into it a little piece of paper on which he has written the new name. And so the name is changed.
Tried some cottonseed oil of Olson’s to-day that was too bad. A year or two ago he was given a case of spoiled mayonnaise dressing for fox food. Olson saved the oil which had separated from the rest of it. I made dough for doughnuts while I heated the oil to fry ourselves that great treat. Then arose a pinching, rancid odor that almost made me ill but which Rockwell called delicious. However I baked the doughnuts. Still, the oil unheated seemed not bad.