The ninth anniversary was still too soon after the June-Bug's arrival
for me to get off the hill and back, up our two hundred and seventeen
steps home, so we celebrated under our own roof again--this time with a
roast chicken and ice-cream dinner, and with the entire family
participating--except the June-Bug, who did almost nothing then but
sleep. I tell you, if ever we had chicken, the bones were not worth
salvaging by the time we got through. We made it last at least two
meals, and a starving torn cat would pass by what was left with a
scornful sniff.

Our tenth and last anniversary was in Seattle. Carl had to be at Camp
Lewis all day, but he got back in time to meet me at six-thirty in the
lobby of the Hotel Washington. From there we went to our own favorite
place--Blanc's--for dinner. Shut away behind a green lattice
arbor-effect, we celebrated ten years of joy and riches and deep
contentment, and as usual asked ourselves, "What in the world shall we
be doing a year from now? Where in the world shall we be?" And as usual
we answered, "Bring the future what it may, we have _ten years_ that no
power in heaven or earth can rob us of!"

* * * * *

There was another occasion in our lives that I want to put
down in black and white, though it does not come under wedding
anniversaries. But it was such a celebration! "Uncle Max" 'lowed that
before we left Berkeley we must go off on a spree with him, and
suggested--imagine!--Del Monte! The twelve-and-a-half-cent Parkers at
Del Monte! That was one spot we had never seen ourselves even riding by.
We got our beloved Nurse Balch out to stay with the young, and when a
brand-new green Pierce Arrow, about the size of our whole living-room,