“Ought I to do this? Ought I to think that? Am I making the most of my opportunities? Am I being myself, Azalea, or am I imitating these others? Am I of any use or am I just consuming good oxygen and nice food and getting in the way generally?” That’s how I keep at it. I don’t seem to be able to give myself any rest, but must always be badgering myself like that. We are all going to the theater to-night to see “A Winter’s Tale.” Mr. Hargreaves goes with us. I shall wear my white silk and my peach-blow silk jacket. They are charming together. I have a fillet of silver wheat for my hair. Yesterday I sewed little perfume bags—with violet powder in them—in all of my frocks. Violet is the pleasantest of the perfumes, I think. Though Aunt Lorena uses white rose. What is your favorite, Carin? I have forgotten. Or perhaps when you and I saw each other, I was not thinking much about perfumes. Well, now I think about all such things. I have learned to approve of certain makes of gloves and to disapprove of others. I know what sort of laces an unmarried girl should wear, and what ones should be reserved for married ladies. I know—Oh, I know a thousand things! I hope little madam grandmother would approve of me. Though she is gone, I still try to please her. Sometimes, when I have tried particularly hard to be polite and gay the way she would like me to be, I fancy I feel her little jeweled hand on my head and that I hear her say: “You are doing very well indeed, my dear. Really, I could ask nothing more of you.” What a pity grandmother could not have passed on her charm as well as her money to me! But I am thankful for the money, though money can never play a tremendously large part in my life, because it is so much less interesting than some other things. But as I said, I have been out shopping, and you ought to see what I bought Annie Laurie—a picture of the sea that I know she will love. And I got a watch for Paralee Panther—a wrist watch. She’s really a school-teacher at last, as I think I told you, so the watch will be useful. But I have presents for everybody. Buying these things for the people dear to me keeps me from feeling homesick. Good night, Carin. It is time to dress for dinner. And after that comes the theater, and I am glad. I do love the theater! And best of all I enjoy the moment when the curtain begins to rise. It is such a throbbing moment. What will one see? What story is to be told? Will one forget that it is a play and believe it all to be true? Will one like life better for having seen it? Will one go out dancing or weeping? Oh, it’s a great moment when the curtain begins to rise. _Azalea_. * * * * * Como, August 13. _Oh_, _my dear neglected friend_: