Just at present, things are very busy here, for Mrs. Shurtleff is opening two new départements,—grocery and tuberculosis. The former will be invaluable, for so many of the people are sick through lack of proper food; and, after all, with one franc twenty-five centimes a day allocation for the wife or mother, and seventy-five centimes per day for the children under sixteen years, and only fifty centimes per kid if there is no member at the front, with the average family now, with the very varying rent, sometimes very high and other times comparatively low, it is, even with a small supply of coal and potatoes (erratically given, for the most part), hard for a family that is run down, after the exposures and general strain of their flight, to have enough money left, when they have paid their rent, to buy very nourishing and very much food. It is most interesting to find every day new twists and turns as to what the different Comités and Mairies will and will not do. They are cutting down on everything as much as they can, and you can hardly blame them. But the inconsistencies are amusing at times;—one family does not get its “allocation de réfugié,” generally known as “chaumage” (differing from “allocation militaire” in that it is given, although there is no member of the family at the front), because they have only four children! Yet if there were five children or more, they would receive only four pairs of shoes from the schools every three months, so whatever you have in the way of a family is a drawback; but if you have no children at all, you are worse off than ever!!
In one way the poor children are better off, from my way of thinking, in one detail,—the poorer they are the heavier stockings they wear, and as they grow richer, the stockings become less and less, until the really rich, swell, Commonwealth-Avenue children go about with socks and purple knees!
We each of us have our “pet families” whom we want to do little extra things for, and I have already acquired one family—a very extra special, nice, self-respecting one, who won me among other things by telling me she opened the window in her room twice a day to change the air!—an absolutely unheard-of thing in this land! The woman has three dear little children, two who go to school and a lovely little baby. They are all so clean, and the tiny room is spotless. The eldest boy is now sixteen, and has just been operated on for appendicitis, and has gone to some friends in the country to rest after the operation. The mother and three children spent a month in caves before she came here. The father is at the front, of course,—is a wirelayer for telephone and telegraph service. He does lookout work, sitting in tree-tops with spyglasses and hoisted on top of poles to try to discover the enemy’s guns and positions,—all of which is very dangerous work. Enough of all this;—I did not realize how I had rambled on.
I want you and Daddy to know that I have been writing so hard that I never heard the luncheon bell at all!! I am now eating my various kinds of crackers with one hand, while I finish this with the other! I shall have a splendid excuse to have a very plentiful tea this afternoon, which will be very nice. I can tell you I think that I could stand a several days’ siege with my well-stocked wardrobe.
Lots and lots of love to all the family from your very happy and busy daughter,
Marje.
This letter, although probably late, brings many, many happy returns of the day to you, Mother dear.
P.S. Having re-read this letter, I have to apologize for the writing. I am terribly sorry it is so messy. I guess I got excited and tried to go as fast as the typewriter does!
X
FROM ESTHER
On train from Pau, Saturday, February 24, 1917.