I call the armoire Richard Coeur de Lion--it is strong and all-embracing. I have no bureau, but dress--instead of eat--"off" the mantelpiece. Everything is dumped into the armoire--ribbons, collars, dresses, shoes, books, chewing-gum, hats, furs, et al., and believe me, they stand not on the order of their going! I will say, though, before Mother's last whitened tress is wound up on her finger and put away in a little Altman box at the back of her right-hand bureau drawer, that I keep things pretty well arranged on the different shelves and in the little drawers, my best clothes being left in my wardrobe trunk, but my orderliness (so-called) is due to no virtue of my own, but to the fact that I never wear anything but my blue serge dress, my old blue coat, heavy underwear, old tan boots and rubbers--never, except during giddy interregna of the old "battleship gray." Always put on in the morning what you took off the night before, is my sine qua non--which doesn't make any sense, but you know what I mean. For chairs, I have one armchair of imitation red leather, which is stiff and smooth and cold, but when I cover it over with my two sweaters to take the edge off, as it were, it does very well. Then there are two little chairs made so that you sit on them diagonally,--I've always thought them an abomination,--but I never sit in them, just spread my clothes out on them at night. Then I have a small straight chair which goes with the little table that serves as desk. My rugs--Heaven save the name!--are three irregular strips of carpet--one red (a little purpler than the chair) with navy-blue fleurs-de-lys (you will remember that the wallpaper is pink and gold); the other two, gray in background, with a design which would seem to be conventionalized lyre-birds and sculpins sparring in a whirlpool. It takes the two strips to show the pattern--perhaps it is the great-grandchild of a gobelin nightmare. I have no place for my books. Indeed, I didn't have any books when I started out, except my dictionaries, but Mrs. Bigelow has left me ten Baedekers, and any number of books and magazines have been lent me. I stack them up on the piano, but it is very untidy.