ourselves honestly think that we had just about everything we wanted on
what we got, plus outside lectures, in California. But once we had
tasted of the new-found freedom of truly enough; once there was gone
forever the stirring around to pick up a few extra dollars here and
there to make both ends meet; once we knew for the first time the
satisfaction and added joy that come from some responsible person to
help with the housework--we felt that we were soaring through life with
our feet hardly touching the ground.

Instead of my spending most of the day in the kitchen and riding herd on
the young, we had our dropped-straight-from-heaven Mrs. Willard. And see
what that meant. Every morning at nine I left the house with Carl, and
we walked together to the University. As I think of those daily walks
now, arm-in-arm, rain or shine, I'd not give up the memory of them for
all creation. Carl would go over what he was to talk about that morning
in Introductory Economics (how it would have raised the hair of the
orthodox Econ. I teacher!), and of course we always talked some of what
marvelous children we possessed. Carl would begin: "Tell me some more
about the June-Bug!"

He would go to his nine o'clock, I to mine. After my ten-o'clock class,
and on the way to my eleven-o'clock lecture, I always ran in to his
office a second, to gossip over what mail he had got that morning and
how things were going generally. Then, at twelve, in his office again.
"Look at this telegram that just came in." "How shall I answer Mr.
----'s about that job?" And then home together; not once a week, but
_every day_.

Afternoons, except the three afternoons when I played hockey, I was at
home; but always there was a possibility that Carl would ring up about