One girl carried on a coherent conversation with six
different fellows at once and left each of them feeling that he alone
had been singled out for her particular favor. As a matter of fact I
was flirting with her all the time and I could tell by the very way
she looked that she would have much rather been talking to me. Last
week I had to convince mother that I was wearing my flannels; this
week I had to convince her I still had them on. The only way to
satisfy her, I suppose, is to appear before her publicly in them.
Poor, dear mother, she told me she had written the doctor up here
asking him not to squirt my arm full of those horrid little germs any
more. She said I came from a good, clean family, and had been bathed
once a week all my life, except the time when I had the measles and
then it wasn't advisable. I am sure this must have cheered the doctor
up tremendously. She also asked him to be sure to see that I got my
meals regularly. I can see him now taking me by the hand and leading
me to the mess-hall. When I suggested to mother that she write
President Wilson asking him to be sure to see that my blankets didn't
fall off at night, she said that I was a sarcastic, ungrateful boy.
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