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No telegram to send. I grazed the first prize and missed the
second because Henry Anderson wins with plans so like mine that
they are practically duplicates. I have not seen the winning
plans. Mr. Snow told me as gently as he could that the judges
had ruled me out entirely. The winning plans are practically a
reversal of mine, more



professionally drawn, and no doubt the specifications are far
ahead of mine, as these are my weak spot, although I have worked
all day and far into the night on the mathematics of house
building. Mr. Snow was very kind, and terribly cut up about it.
I made what I hope was a brave fight, I did so believe in those
plans that I am afraid to say just how greatly disappointed I am.
All I can do is to go to work again and try to find out how to
better my best, which I surely put into the plans I submitted. I
can't see how Henry Anderson came to hit upon some of my personal
designs for comforts and conveniences. I had hoped that no man
would think of my especial kitchen plans. I rather fancied
myself as a benefactor to my sex, an emancipator from drudgery,
as it were. I had a concealed feeling that it required a woman
who had expended her strength combating the construction of a
devilish kitchen, to devise some of my built-in conveniences, and
I worked as carefully on my kitchen table, as on any part of the
house. If I find later that the winning plans include these
things I shall believe that Henry Anderson is a mind reader, or