"I am the hobo poet,
I lead a merry life:
One day I woo the Muse, the next,
Another fellow's wife!"
I brought this up to the cottage we had now procured, down in West Grove, N.J., where we had gone finally to escape the city, and the swarm of reporters that seemed never to cease pursuing us ... for, when we found out that they did not want propaganda, we sought to hide away from them....
Hildreth had been rather gloomy at breakfast that morning, and I thought she would join in a laugh with me over Tad's horse-play. There is a streak in me that makes me enjoy the grotesque slap-stick of the comic artists.
When Hildreth saw the cartoons, she laughed a little, at first; then she wept violently.
Then she wrote a savage letter to Tad, letting him know what she thought of his vulgarity.