and yet there was something bright and comfortable about
it. I felt that I was going to like it, aborigines and
all. The men drink beer with their supper and read the
Staats-Zeitung and the Germania and foreign papers
that I never heard of. It is uncanny, in these United
States. But it is going to be bully for my German.

After my first letter home Norah wrote frantically,
demanding to know if I was the only woman in the house.
I calmed her fears by assuring her that, while the men
were interesting and ugly with the fascinating ugliness
of a bulldog, the women were crushed looking and
uninteresting and wore hopeless hats. I have
written Norah and Max reams about this household, from
the aborigines to Minna, who tidies my room and serves my
meals, and admires my clothes. Minna is related to Frau
Knapf, whom I have never seen. Minna is inordinately
fond of dress, and her remarks anent my own garments are
apt to be a trifle disconcerting, especially when she
intersperses her recital of dinner dishes with admiring
adjectives directed at my blouse or hat. Thus:

"Wir haben roast beef, und spareribs mit Sauerkraut,
und schicken--ach, wie schon, Frau Orme! Aber ganz
prachtvoll!" Her eyes and hands are raised toward
heaven.

"What's prachtful? " I ask, startled. "The
chicken?"