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Wed.
7 May
1919

I didn’t get your letter off this morning as I wanted to, but probably that will make no difference in your receiving it.

It has been rainy all the afternoon and has caused me to wonder if you are entering a rainy zone just about now also.

After returning from Boston, I went down to your house to put naphthalene flakes among your birds, but the box was empty. I shall get some tomorrow. Your mother was over at Curtis’, and your father trimming the woodbine in the rain. I had to smile as I recalled your account of his vine-trimming. He said he hoped you would be back soon. 

Hubbard was over consulting the gods that so graciously preside over all botany at Cambridge,- Fernald and Robinson - this morning, and Miss Boynton and I discussed Charlie S. whom she said the Howardites call “Swiney,” and added, “I do – but not to his head.” Poor ‘Swiney,’ I can’t help