Such, indeed, is life.
Later: Carter Brooks dropped in this evening. I was very cold to him and said:
“Please pardon me if I do not talk much, as I am in low spirits.”
“Low spirits on a holaday!” he exclaimed. “Well, we’ll have to fix that. How about a motor Picnic?”
It is always like that in our house. They regard a Party or a Picnic as a cure for everything, even a heartache, or being worried about Spies, etcetera.
“No, thank you,” I said. “I am worried about those of my friends who have enlisted.” I then gave him a scornful glance and left the room. He said “Bab!” in a strange voice and I heard him coming after me. So I ran as fast as I could to my Chamber and locked the door.
In Camp Girls Aviation Corps, April 12th.
We are now in Camp, although not in Unaform, owing to the delivery waggon not coming yet with our clothes. I am writing on a pad on my knee, while my Orderley, Betty Anderson, holds the ink bottle.
What a morning we have had!
Would one not think that, in these terrable times, it would be a simple matter to obtain a spot wherein to prepare for the defence of the Country? Should not the Young be encouraged to spring to the call, “To arms, to arms, ye braves!” instead of being reproved for buying a Tent with no place as yet to put it, and the Adams’s governess being sent along with Elaine because we need a Chaperone?