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36 Cabot Hall, Radcliffe
Cambridge, Mass.
April 29, 1947

Dear folks,

At last "William the Silent, Prince of Orange" has been left at peace; what a job I had prodding him to speak! I got one draft done Saturday, and revised it steadily all day today. Now another and final revision is necessary; I figure on almost as many pages of explanatory foot-notes -- every statement must be substantiated. Quite a job.

Received a call from Margaret Currier asking me over for supper on the evening before my English and History papers fall due. She'll call again.

Dad, I heard a good advertisement on the radio this morning: "And in our department will be found etc. etc. for the slim young thing, and also for the stylishly stout.!! So it's fashionable now! I don't feel so bad.

Got B+ on History test. She said I put in too many facts & outlined it too strongly, & took off 14 points. That's true. I'm afraid the [[strikethrough]] no [[/strikethrough]] term paper will contain too many irrelevencies: I am no judge of it.

Is Dad having new lower? Just plate, not with teeth on it?

I've spoken to the employment agency. Their function is to receive job possibilities & communicate them to girls who have registered desires. I must write the papers, etc., if I can ever find time.

I venture to say that is the first lipstick Dad has ever encountered. I should very much like to have seen the seals applauding one another, also.

The time shift had its convenience: an hour less between supper and breakfast.

Till more occurs,
Love,
Doris

P.S. Got a call (while I was out taking care of children: $1.25) from a David Reer, who was in 4th grade Henry Clay with me, so he says! He'll call again. All I can remember from fourth grade is a little fat boy I gave a [[strikethrough]] knife [[/strikethrough]] prettily mottled knife to at Christmas and he was so pleased.