The freight men at the various depots have come to
look on me and my consignments of freight in amazement. . .
We had a terrible time getting to sleep last night. Since Frank
has been home, things have been going along pretty smoothly. The
girls were glad to see him, and he to see the girls. But it
couldn't last. I saw Jane and Joan getting their heads together a
good deal yesterday afternoon, and finally Schweet Babe got in
it. Frank and I were playing casino. The girls were upstairs,
then went out to a picture show or something. Frank was a little
nervous. Finally he went upstairs and came back after a long
absence and said that Joan had put soap chips all through his
bed. He had cleaned it out, and had filled Joan's bed full of nut
shells. Then she came home looking suspiciously, eased upstairs
evidently to learn if Frank had found out what had happened to
his bed. She found hers and had to take everything off and shake
the covers, and then it started. No great noise, but much
shutting of doors, running here and there, low whispering,
giggling--and everything except going to bed. I stayed out of it,
and in the wee small hours of the night, the house settled down
and everybody this morning was too sleepy to get up for
breakfast.
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