![Transcription Center logo](/themes/custom/tc_theme/assets/image/logo.png)
This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.
290 Walnut Street Stoughton, Mass. April 13, 1947 Dear folks, I am on my way out to Stoughton now, swaying along in the subway at 8:00. Picked up good 20ยข breakfast first. The square dance last night was very interesting, but tiring before three hours were over. We did old English as well as American square dances, and interpolated a waltz-polka now and then. I am not worried about Judy anymore: Dick spoke of us all getting together--to hear some South African records of hers (he sang a dozen or more of them over our fruit-cups until I could hardly keep my eyes open), and, though he did ask me to a folk-dancing festival (refused) in West Virginia, I don't think he was much disappointed. He seems like the sort of person who isn't seriously interested in anybody. I was quite an awkward dancer, too. Got rid of Sol by answering his letter--and innocently describing the climate and progress of spring for over three pages in a pedantic style that ought to frighten any man away. Mr. Gilpatrick will be the name of the [[strikethrough]] new [[/strikethrough]] minister quite shortly. [[strikethrough]] He [[/strikethrough]] Bradner has been voted out. Maude has a beautiful Easter lily--still open, while Grandma's last flower is wasted. On her night table is now a huge, silver-framed picture of young Ralph that Florence recently found at the bottom of a drawer. She has seen the boys