The evening of the day is here. The boys and I played “rummy” all the morning and I lost for a change. At luncheon we had lamb stew. Apparently no one knows about cooking lamb except by boiling. I should love to have a chop. At supper we had fresh salmon. It was delicious. Slim and I sat and talked over the meal while Bill went to W.U. The boys had been out fishing in the afternoon. They started to explore a cave but found the water too rough. There are two good caves here which have never been explored. How I’d like to explore them. There might be buried treasure—in fact, there have been several attempts to dig up some at the other end of the bay. I don’t know who the “buriers” are supposed to be. Mr. Deveraux has just come in and suggested we go eeling. I have just returned from a walk and the boys from Fulgoni’s. Eeling is off. The gang is going down on a gasoline rail car for a ride. They have wired the Supt. for permission to use it and are off to Biscay Bay. They wear their flying suits, as the wind is really cold. Our telegrams decreased today. I had time to wash my hair. I wish I had manicuring facilities and a bath tub. June 10. The indefatigable Bill insisted on going eeling or trouting or exploring. Slim refused to get up and slept until five. Bill dragged the other two, and two natives, with him to the other end of the bay. They constructed an eel trap before they left but took poles too. At six they returned with some beautiful speckled trout, nearly all caught by B. S. He hiked back into the woods to a stream while the others sat and caught one sea trout from the boat. Fog has come in thick and woolly and rain is now accompanying. The weather reports sound favorable but there is no chance of our getting out of this fog I fear. Job had nothing on us. We are just managing to keep from suicide. June 11. The fog has cleared and I think a wind is coming. Bill has a hunch we move soon. I hope he is right. We have not yet received G.P.’s report. 10:35 p.m. I have never been so faithful to a diary. No luck today. We could have got off here but the Atlantic wasn’t inviting. Reports today say mayhap tomorrow noon will be propitious. The gang went to see the old spiked cannon on the hill at the mouth of the bay. They are overgrown and are at least 200 yrs. old. They bear G.R. on them. We all came home and tried to work puzzles the whole evening. Andy has a passion for stuffing the town gossip here, so slipped out to tell him the usual string of stories for the day. This morning he had him [the t.g.] up at five for the take-off which he promised rain or shine. Oh, if only we can get away soon. It is hard indeed to remain sans books, sans contact with one’s interests and withal on a terrific strain. The wind is chill tonight and even with a flannel nightgown I know I shall shiver. * * * *