feel the breeze that is blowing through my window now, and could cultivate such a tan as Garth's! (And such an appetite!)
Oh, there was never a happier experiment than this! Of course, it can not last forever. If Jim really enters the Navy in the fall, this will be our last summer. But when I look back and review it all, I bless the inspiration that made us think of such an unheard-of plan. Do you remember how every one laughed? But behold us! Garth saved, Jim made over, a number of books to show for his leisure, your sister a marvel of health, energy, and contentment! The lighthouse pay, which seemed so small at first, goes amazingly far out here; it does make such a difference when fuel and lodging are supplied. Quimpaug certainly offers no temptations to part with extra shillings, and you know how we dress! Book royalties have a surprising way of mounting up, also, and we feel positively wealthy on what would shrivel to nothing in your horrible city.
We had a caller from Civilization the other day, incidentally. It was the Russian Count, if you please. His name is Stysalski, though Jim sticks to Fishashki. He did a weirdly awful futurist sketch from the landing, but despite that, Joan and I quite liked his earnest, Slavic intensity. Jim scorns him; nevertheless, we all go to tea with the noble gentleman on Friday. Joan seems quite interested in him. He plays the flute, by the way; better than he paints, we hope!
Jim sends his best greetings. He is grinding away at his naval work very hard, but he manages to have