Sunday and my day to sleep. O boy. It’s hard to realize it’s
Sunday. True we were a little busier than usual this afternoon. Tonight is
George’s night on so we read by fire and got sleepy!
George's letter home:
‘Lo Family,
Things are picking up. Yesterday I boomed into a nice room
through the medium of my little pass key, closed the door behind me, started
for the windows to wash them, and stopped in my tracks. There lay two very
surprised newly-weds. Oh me – Oh my, the things I run into around here: old
maids trundling down the halls amid a gale of pajamas, old men hobbling to the
washrooms with their third chins peeking over their collar bands, and a hundred
more little things to excite great interest in my new job.
Bill Manning and I went to the lake the other day by way of
the old trail. When we got there, we very foolishly decided to cross over to
the new trail and up it. What a tough time we had, scaling cliffs, hanging by
our toes and fingers over the water, saying “hows-do” to the fish, smelling the
rock flowers, etc. That trip will not see us two kids for sometime. I thought
we would never get there; at that it took us three hours to get back.
This letter is having one hard time right now. I am in one
corner of the lobby, at a writing table surrounded by all the kids. They are
all wise cracking, and of course I have my little paddle going right in the
middle of it all.
I have enclosed some pictures for you, and I wish you would
save them for my album. Thank you for sending my sweater, and give the
Grandfolks my love.
Love, Hib
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