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U.S.Nat.Mus. Wash.D.C.
20 April 1948.

Dear Doris:

It is sch a lovely morning - I feel like trilling up with the songsparrows. Dogwood, lacy willows,green everywhere-- Sue and I loved the ride down. Patty is still home sick. I found a brown thrasher's nest in her shrubbery and left her a note when she awoke to look for it. 

I had another letter from Bequaert accepting invitation to the Field Club shadbake. He seemed quite delighted. Little Abbott told me that he is looking forward to his visit and may drive him back to Cambridge in the middle of May if he can get off. He is a nice chap, has just bought a house out near Mr. Weiss's. 

Poor Dad is having such a time with his legs. I wish you could see them, though, they make me laugh. He paints them with gentian purple and they are the purplest legs I ever saw, and the purple comes off on everything, union suits, bedding, towels, I even found some on the tablecloth, though I hate to think how it got there. Dad is all-out to get rid of his fungus, because I have ostracized him, fearful I come down with a similar case. I can't see myself wearing my beloved nylons over purple legs. 

I like Dr. Tisza's notion of the cooperative house, quite aside from the financial saving. You would certainly have a good chance to work with other women, not only live with them, and I bet you would enjoy it. One needs a certain amount of humdrum activity. All taxonomy would drive me to drink - I have to scrub floors to offset my mental activity. Though you have a certain superior scorn for menial service of any sort, I think in the long run you will find it is soul saving. The touch with the earth to regain our strength of mind and body is a mighty good story of the old giant Actaeus (I think it was he).

Dad and I went over to the Mellon the first thing yesterday and had one good look at the pictures before the crowds got too thick. The omnipresent Mr. Newcomer was there gabbling with whomever happened to be on either side of him, and Dad nearly had a fit till we got away from his vicinity. He was the one Dad was dodging up at Great Falls, I never saw such a man. Miss Colcord spoke of him as a fellow churchgoer, and said he was a pest. 

The old cat lost his appetite, and as keen as ever sought out his dark cellar corner to hide up in. He was perfectly aware of the oiling in store for him, and Dad hauled him out regardless. This morning he was after his breakfast. I guess we have found out the right way to deal with him. 

Well, I must get to work on Myochrous darlingtoni - a most beautiful thing that he got down in Colombia. 

Love, 
Mother.