To Cora Hendricks from Bertha – March 5, 1913
Dear Mamma,
I got two letters from you Monday morning. They were a trifle old in this news of cause but I was enjoyed to get them. I had forgotten I had a sore foot. That is a think of the past. Also, I was sorry to find that I had failed to acknowledge the receipt of that first check from Papa. I suppose I got busy writing and forgot the most important think I had to say as usual. Anyway, in case I’ve forgotten some other time, let me say now that I have received all the checks sent, I am sure of that, the last being sent since your arrival in the Islands but I’m sure I wrote Papa about that one.
Concerning staying here another year, it’s a pretty serious matter to decide in some ways I think and I hardly know what to say. My work has not been as uniformly satisfactory as I would have wished and I realize more and more that there are so many promising students in this world that being one doesn’t necessarily guarantee anything. Well, it’s a question so serious that I’m afraid to decide it. I’d much rather let things take their natural course though I suppose one must come to decisions once in a while. I’d gladly stay if I could get five or six additional months without staying longer than that time but the best time of the year here is from December on, which means a whole year longer without seeing you. That seems a very long time to me.
I will get Reba’s _____ cloth and whatever else you want for yourself and thank you very much in advance for my birthday gift. I’ve already tried to think what I will do with it. I’d like books but they are heavy to put in my trunk and will perhaps not be the wisest choice at the present time. On the whole as I’d like to put the money into something permanent I rather imagine I will settle on a silver card case as that will be something I will always be glad to have and can always make use of. I judge that Miss McCoy is the only girl on the post. She is certainly very unfortunate and as you say, it makes me feel my own blessing to see a person so afflicted. I will miss not having more girls but after all, we will have a lot of fun by ourselves. Senn [Note: Her brother] has left home by this time. I hope he will do well at his new school. I am making a little cap for baby Guthrie. Do you know I find that lots of things that I used to think terribly hard have found so easy. I used to think hemstitching hard was accordingly have not done any in years and have vastly admired people who hemstitched, that’s hemstitch I think on the whole, who hemstitched handkerchiefs but now I find that I can do it very quickly and neatly having been forced to try again.
I want very much to have Captain and Mrs. Guthrie for real, permanent friends. It’s queer how some people appeal so much more than others and I feel it particularly in this case since I have met their friends, the Eilers, their friends speak for them and a more wholly cordial and delightfully welcome. I can’t imagine them from any family to a complete stranger. I called Mrs. May yesterday but she had a headache unfortunately so only saw her cousin, Miss Mann. They are going south in a few days but will not be there very long I imagine.
A rather nice young doctor whom I met on Sunday called last night. He seems very pleasant but I’m half inclined to think I will not be at home the next time he calls if he does again for I have a very queer feeling about knowing men whom I don’t meet at home even when they are introduced by lady people. I suppose it’s rather absurd and I ought not to cultivate it.
I have not heard from Mr. Godfrey in some time. I’m sorry to say as he also made a little impression at the Studio Club though not as great a one as Mr. Loughborough. Mr. Godfrey’s ideas are very peculiar on some subjects particularly including women I think and I’m much too matter of fact to interest him. To him, a woman is cobwebby, ethereal creature of dreams. I don’t think he has met many of that kind but I imagine he thinks even I am to him like the heroine of an ultra-sentimental story, so he says, another little “Weaver of Dreams,” not me but Mr. Godfrey, I’m the “Very Tired Girl” who was an artist and lived in New York. I’m going to try to live up to it if I can resist this temptation to tease him, always pondering he ever turns up again which doesn’t seem highly probably considering. Well, the discussion of a play to be given in the spring is coming up again and as it’s being discussed in my room and I’ll have to stop.
Love to all.
The discussion is over so I’ll write a little more. Mrs. Newcomer has been again, is still in the hospital in Chicago and Colonel Newcomer is with her. I must write to her very soon, tonight if I have time and I think I’ll try to make her a little Easter gift after I finish with Billy Guthrie, if I have time. Oh, lady! She has been having a very hard time and Francis writes to her every night which is one reason why I have only heard from him once since Christmas. Work is better again this week. I believe I’m really picking up again though it’s a little soon to feel elated. I worked awfully hard today and quite enjoyed doing it. I’ve found a certain spot ______ the lighting attracts me and there I intend to stick if possible until I get my work really well in hard. I like doing portraits and I’m sure it is my real field if I have any because it is what I have always wanted to do more than anything else. We have a laughing model this week and she is intensely interesting. I hope very much that I will get a D as I did on my last week’s portrait which was a better likeness, I think.
Love to all.
From,
Bertha