Dear Sally:

Will you and Jack (and the baby and nurse, of course) come out the 28th (Friday), and stay for ten days? Morning and evening trains take only forty minutes, and it won't hurt Jack to commute for the weekdays between the two Sundays! I am sure the country will do you and the baby good, or at least it will do me good to have you here.

With much love, affectionately,

Ethel Norman.

Dear Mary:

Will you and Jim come on Friday the first for the Worldly dance, and stay over Sunday? Muriel asks me to tell you that Helen and Dick, and also Jimmy Smith are to be here and she particularly hopes that you will come, too.

The three-twenty from New York is the best train—much. Though there is a four-twenty and a five-sixteen, in case Jim is not able to take the earlier one.

Very sincerely,

Alice Jones.

Dear Helen:

This note is merely to remind you that you and Dick are coming here for the Worldly dance on the sixth. Mother is expecting you on the three-twenty train, and will meet you here at the station.

Affectionately,

Muriel.

Dear Miss Strange:

Will you come up here on the sixth of September and stay until the sixteenth? It would give us all the greatest pleasure. There is a train leaving Broadway Station at 8.03 A.M. which will get you to Dustville Junction at 5 P.M. and here in time for supper.

It is only fair to warn you that the camp is very primitive; we have no luxuries, but we can make you fairly comfortable if you like an outdoor life and are not too exacting. Please do not bring a maid or any clothes that the woods or weather can ruin. You will need nothing but outdoor things: walking boots (if you care to walk), a bathing suit (if you care to swim in the lake), and something comfortable rather than smart for evening (if you care to dress for supper). But on no account bring evening, or any good clothes!

Hoping so much that camping appeals to you and that we shall see you on the evening of the sixth,

Very sincerely yours,

Martha Kindhart.