Following her great bereavement, Mrs. Coolidge spent many hours in the gardens south of the mansion knitting. Only mothers who have experienced a similar sorrow know of the heartaches and the poignant memories represented in the exquisite stitches of the silken socks, the dainty ties, and little bags, fashioned by her expert fingers, while John, all desire for the camp gone with the death of his loved younger brother, stayed around to help her get through the first lonely weeks. The pets, Paul Pry and Rob Roy, the handsome white collies; the cats (the roaming Tige would not stay home and had to be locked up to keep him from killing the birds, instead of devoting himself to his catly duty in the basement); the birds which Mrs. Coolidge has in her sitting room--all helped in a way to fill the round of duties that occupied her time. Although carrying a heavy heart, the First Lady did not obtrude her personal sorrow into her official position. Instead of the sombre black which was more in keeping with her feelings, she resolutely kept to colours, but the vivid tones and bright tints worn previously were laid aside for the softer grays, orchid, and much white. Mrs. Coolidge’s frankness and lack of pretense have endeared her to everyone, and many stories are related of her little kindly actions. As the Vice President’s wife, she frankly discussed the futility of trying to establish and maintain a suitable establishment equipped for entertaining on the inadequate vice-presidential salary. She frankly admitted she wore ready-made gowns and liked them because she could slip into them and get the finished effect without the waste of precious time and effort in endless sessions of fittings and tiresome searches for trimmings. She dresses in most becoming style. Her taste is quiet and refined, and she has the knack of wearing her clothes well. She always presents a chic finish and smartness that is good to look at, and her old-fashioned upbringing is apparent in that, once dressed, she never gives her clothes another thought. One of the prettiest stories of her many thoughtful kindnesses is of the gift of huge boxes of lovely White House roses to fifty shop girls of the city who worked as seamstresses in the big establishment where her gowns were made for the first season. Best of all, when the messenger carried the great box into the establishment, he carried along a large White House monogrammed envelope to the forewoman, and within, in her own handwriting, was the First Lady’s gracious expression of her appreciation of the care and work they put on her “White House trousseau.” Further joy descended upon that establishment when the dressmaker was invited to the next White House reception to see how the gown looked and get ideas for her own future use.