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Dec. 15 Sunday What I write now is not for myself but for our little Chandler who was born today. It was bright and lovely part of the day - but not all. Father went to Dr. Gannet's

church to hear his sermon on Whittier,
and then went up to tell Charlotte about it. Mother was sick and lying in her red wrapper on the sofa in my room. I got dinner - a good chicken dinner - and ate heartily - Then I sorted the clothes and Father was upstairs reading aloud to Mother, who felt pretty sick, when Char came. She took off her cozy high rubbers and left them on the piazza and her light coat, muff and gloves and glasses on the stand down- stairs, while she rested a moment and then went upstairs. When I came up a little later she was sitting beside Mother in Uncle's green corduroy chair, near the gas log fire, Father was in the little mahogany chair and I sat on the foot of Mother's sofa, facing her. We had about a half-hour's talk so bright and cheerful. She told in a proud and funny way all about reading Claude's paper on Gothic Architecture before some of the left - over members of the Wednesday morning club
at Mrs. Alling's
on Saturday - about the dis- cussion and criticism and about talking it over with Claude at dinner to- day and how resourceful he was as to

Dec. 15 Sunday What I write now is not for myself but for our little Chandler who was born today. It was bright and lovely part of the day - but not all. Father went to Dr. Gannet's

church to hear his sermon on Whittier,
and then went up to tell Charlotte about it. Mother was sick and lying in her red wrapper on the sofa in my room. I got dinner - a good chicken dinner - and ate heartily - Then I sorted the clothes and Father was upstairs reading aloud to Mother, who felt pretty sick, when Char came. She took off her cozy high rubbers and left them on the piazza and her light coat, muff and gloves and glasses on the stand down- stairs, while she rested a moment and then went upstairs. When I came up a little later she was sitting beside Mother in Uncle's green corduroy chair, near the gas log fire, Father was in the little mahogany chair and I sat on the foot of Mother's sofa, facing her. We had about a half-hour's talk so bright and cheerful. She told in a proud and funny way all about reading Claude's paper on Gothic Architecture before some of the left - over members of the Wednesday morning club
at Mrs. Alling's
on Saturday - about the dis- cussion and criticism and about talking it over with Claude at dinner to- day and how resourceful he was as to

Dec. 15 Sunday What I write now is not for myself but for our little Chandler who was born today. It was bright and lovely part of the day - but not all. Father went to Dr. Gannet's

church to hear his sermon on Whittier,
and then went up to tell Charlotte about it. Mother was sick and lying in her red wrapper on the sofa in my room. I got dinner - a good chicken dinner - and ate heartily - Then I sorted the clothes and Father was upstairs reading aloud to Mother, who felt pretty sick, when Char came. She took off her cozy high rubbers and left them on the piazza and her light coat, muff and gloves and glasses on the stand down- stairs, while she rested a moment and then went upstairs. When I came up a little later she was sitting beside Mother in Uncle's green corduroy chair, near the gas log fire, Father was in the little mahogany chair and I sat on the foot of Mother's sofa, facing her. We had about a half-hour's talk so bright and cheerful. She told in a proud and funny way all about reading Claude's paper on Gothic Architecture before some of the left - over members of the Wednesday morning club
at Mrs. Alling's
on Saturday - about the dis- cussion and criticism and about talking it over with Claude at dinner to- day and how resourceful he was as to
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