Up over my table I have the little picture you sent of the "Lane that
turned at last". You always said my lane, would turn, and it
_has_ turned into a broad road bordered by cherry-blossoms and
wistaria. But, Mate, you needn't think there are no more mudholes, for
there are. When I see them ahead, I climb the fence and walk around!

I am getting quite thrilled these days over the prospect of war. The
soldiers are drilling by the hundreds, and the bugles are blowing all
day. It makes little thrills run up and down my back, but Miss Lessing
says nothing will come of it, that Japan is always getting ready for a
scrap. But the Trans-Siberian Railway has refused all freight because
it is too busy bringing soldiers and supplies to Vladivostock. Now
speaking of Vladivostock reminds me of a plan that has been suggested
for next summer. Miss Dixon, the teacher who was sick, is going to
Russia and is crazy for me to go with her. It wouldn't be much more
expensive than staying in Japan, and would be tremendously
interesting. Don't mention it to anybody at home, but write me if you
approve. I wish you could have peeped into my room last night. Four
or five of the girls slipped in after the silence bell had rung, and
we sat around the fire on the floor and drank tea while I showed them
my photographs. They made such a pretty picture, with their gay gowns
and red cheeks, and they were so thrilled over all my things. The
pictures from home interested them most of all, especially the one of
you and Jack which I have framed together. At first they thought you
must be married, and when I said no, they decided that you were
lovers, so I let it go.

After they went to bed, I sat and looked at the two pictures in the
double frame and wondered how it was after all that you and Jack