28 Nov 1921

28 November 1921

Chalet des Sapins, Montana-sur-Sierre, Switzerland

How are things looking, Richard? All kinds of things? The world in general? I am afraid that in spite of everything I care for Life so profoundly that I am one of these optimists. The wife of Jack Spratt, in fact.
Though in sober fact I hate FAT. But there it is. We dont quarrel about it - which is queer. We are inclined to laugh at each other!
   Theres a queer small tapping noise going on while I write, made by the birds hanging upside down eating the fir cones. Now & then a fir cone drops off & I feel another bird who sees this accident happen gives a squeak of joy.
   Wing is white as snow. His name for Jack is "masteranman", his name for me is Gran'ma Jaegar, he calls Ida B. the Fostermonger; and for some reason calls the servant our Swede. Muddled it with Swiss, I suppose. We found   out these names in his memoirs.
   Heres Jack and the tea tray is following him up the stairs. This is a dull letter, little brother.
   I send my love
                        Katherine. [To Richard Murry, 27 November 1921.]