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#0092: Willa Cather to Dorothy Canfield, [November 27, 1903]

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My Dearest Dorothy1:

Now by Saint Peter's Church and Peter, too, I dont know who your Childs people are, nor does Isabelle3. Of course I understand how hurried your father4 was5 and it's all right, but I should have liked to see him6. He will be in Lincoln7 about Christmas time, you say? He'll meet with a warm welcome there surely. Of course you are all anxious to see the new boy8 in Columbus9. I'm glad he's a Canfield.

Isabelle and I have been to the theatre just once this winter—Mrs. Fiske10 in Hedda Gabler11. She doesn't do it half so well as Blanche Bates12 did. We do go to all the Symphony13 concerts however, and to a good many musical things of one kind and another. I have to go to bed at ten oclock or I'm no good for teaching14 the next day. Edith15 had her coming out party two weeks ago, and we did the heavy social for awhile, but have pretty much settled down to our monastic routine again—except Edith and her mother16. We read a good deal and see a good deal of Francis Hill17,—and Miss May18 occasionally, as often, that is, as she'll let us, I have'nt told you what I'm writing because I dont know where I'm coming out on it—looks rather discouraging lately. It's a rather long thing which I never intended to write but fell into by chance. I have no name for it yet and am not saying much about it because I dont intend to use it unless it pleases me at least moderately well. There are about 40,000 words of the first draft done. It's good practice, if nothing else.

We had a hilarious Thanksgiving dinner last night, as the Judge19 was away, and I feel rather knocked out this morning as a consequence. Do you remember that first Thanksgiving dinner I ate at your hus house in Lincoln, when Arthur Canfield20 was there and you were sick? Poor Marian Smith21 was there, too. But I wont go into reminiscences or I shall get dismal,—in consequence of too much turkey last night. I'll hie me out and take a walk in the snow and be a little more alive next time I write. I dont mean to let letters go unanswered; I just somehow do. It's poor management.

A happy vacation to you Willie