The music E. sent and the songs that Mother sent all came safely and I am so glad to have it all. Sunday night I had a beautiful time with one of the nurses, playing through the new book of duets. The new songs are being used constantly. Mrs. McB.’s box of books arrived this week after its long wanderings. It was most welcome. The books are already giving the greatest pleasure. I have already read three of them myself. Even the doctors come to me for books every now and then, so it is fine to have some good ones on hand to lend to them as well as the nurses.
I see Phil every once in a while. He was down last night at a little dance in our mess which I did not attend. I have learned both the onestep and the foxtrot over here in my old age! I was down to dinner twice the week before with him. It is very pleasant to walk down with him late in the afternoon, wander around a little, get a good dinner, then walk back again, talking over all the latest news from letters or camp gossip. He seems to be enjoying his work at No. 25 Stationary Hospital very much, though he does not find the work at all arduous.
This is a very dull letter, but it is meant to tell you that we are all “carrying on” as usual, are all “in the pink” and feeling “champion.” A few of our number have been a bit “seedy,” but are “going on fine.” We are all wondering “where do we go from here,” but rumor says that we won’t be moved before Summer, which we hope is true. We have very few among us who are “grousers,” but even they would not like to leave this place.
Tell Elsie, please, that I use her brown jacket every night and it is the nicest thing. I don’t need anything for my sitting-room now that it is so comfortable and attractive. It has a little coal stove in it now, which makes it awfully nice for evenings. I am not there much in the daytimes except for French lessons. I am always having some flowers there, people are so nice. I have some white lilacs (!) there now—lovely forced things that are really sweet.
It is getting late and I must beat it to bed. I’ll try to write sooner this next time.
With loads and loads of love,
Jule.
Dad’s letter dated Dec. 25th is the latest I have heard from you, I think. A nice letter from Isabelle dated Dec. 13th arrived a few days ago.
Feb. 6, 1918.
A draft of men is marching by singing and whistling and shouting, which shows us that they are off to the front, for that is the way the troops leave to go to the trenches. I am very tired and spunkless to-night, and I haven’t any lofty thoughts and inspirations, for the needs of the flesh are seeming to predominate, and what I want more than anything else is a wonderful hot bath in a beautiful warm bathroom, and then such a long sleep in a beautiful big bed, where I cannot hear any bugle-calls, any breakfast bells, any coughing nurses, or anything except perhaps soothing, joyriding automobiles. You can see my state of mind. Miss Taylor has been away on her leave for almost a fortnight, which has meant that things have been a good deal harder for me, even though I have had a very capable nurse to assist me in the office. But I am edgy and irritable and need to get away myself.