The Tower Rooms.

Dear Mr. Poole: I have taken your rooms for mine, and this is my first evening in them.

Pittiwitz is curled up under the lamp. She misses you and so do I.

Even now, it seems as if your books ought to be on the table; and that

I ought to be talking to you instead of writing.

I liked your letter. It seemed to tell me that you were hopeful and at

home. You must tell me about the house and your Cousin Patty--about

everything in your life--and you must send me your first story.

Here everything is the same. Constance will be with me until spring,

and we are to have a quiet Thanksgiving and a quiet Christmas with just

the family, and Leila and the General. Porter Bigelow goes to Palm

Beach to be with his mother. I don't know why we always count him in

as one of the family except that he never waits for an invitation, and

of course we're glad to have him. Mother and father used to feel sorry

for him; he was always a sort of "Poor-little-rich-boy" whose money cut

him out from lots of good times that families have who don't live in

such formal fashion as Mr. and Mrs. Bigelow seem to enjoy.

As soon as Constance leaves, I am going to work. I haven't told any

one, for when I hinted at it, Constance was terribly upset, and asked

me to live with her and Gordon. Grace wants me to go to Paris with

her; Barry and Leila have stated that I can have a home with them.

But I don't want a home with anybody. I want to live my own life, as I

have told you. I want to try my wings. I don't believe you quite like

the idea of my working. Nobody does, not even Grace Clendenning,

although Grace seems to understand me better than any one else.

Grace and I have been talking to-day about life as a great adventure.

And it seems to me that we have the right idea. So many people go

through life as just something to be endured, but I want to make things

happen, or rather, if big things don't happen, I want to see in the

little things something that is interesting. I don't believe that any

life need be common-place. It is just the way we look at it. I'm

copying these words which I read in one of your books; perhaps you've

seen them, but anyhow it will tell you better than I what I mean.

"But life is a great adventure, and the worst of all fears is the fear

of living. There are many forms of success, many forms of triumph.

But there is no other success that in any way approaches that which is

open to most of the many men and women who have the right idea. These

are the men and the women who see that it is the intimate and homely

things that count most. They are the men and women who have the

courage to strive for the happiness which comes only with labor and

effort and self-sacrifice, and only to those whose joy in life springs

in part from power of work and sense of duty."




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