st of
Berkeley from our wheels and--presto--Del Monte!

Parents of three children, who do most of their own work besides, do not
need to be told in detail what those four days meant. Parents of three
children know what the hours of, say, seven to nine mean, at home; nor
does work stop at nine. It is one mad whirl to get the family ears
washed and teeth cleaned, and "Chew your mush!" and "Wipe your mouth!"
and "Where's your speller?" and "Jim, come back here and put on your
rubbers!" ("Where are my rubbers?" Ach Gott! where?) Try six times to
get the butcher--line busy. Breakfast dishes to clear up; baby to bathe,
dress, feed. Count the laundry. Forget all about the butcher until
fifteen minutes before dinner. Laundry calls. Telephone rings seven
times. Neighbor calls to borrow an egg. Telephone the milkman for a
pound of butter. Make the beds,--telephone rings in the middle,--two
beds do not get made till three. Start lunch. Wash the baby's clothes.
Telephone rings three times while you are in the basement. Rice burns.
Door-bell--gas and electric bill. Telephone rings. Patch boys' overalls.
Water-bill. Stir the pudding. Telephone rings. Try to read at least the
table of contents of the "New Republic." Neighbor calls to return some
flour. Stir the pudding again. Mad stamping up the front steps. Sons
home. Forget to scrape their feet. Forget to take off their rubbers.
Dad's whistle. Hurray! Lunch.--Let's stop about here, and return to Del
Monte.

This is where music would help. The Home _motif_ would be--I do not know
those musical terms, but a lot of jumpy notes up and down the piano,
fast and never catching up. Del Monte _motif_ slow, lazy melody--ending
with dance-music for night-time. In plain English, what Del Monte meant
was a care-free, absolutely care-free, jaunt into another world. It was
not our world,--we could have been happy forever did we never lay eyes
on Del Monte,--and yet, oh, it was such fun! Think of lazing in bed till
eight or eight-thirty, then taking a leisurely bath, then dressing and
deliberately using up time doing it--put one shoe on and look at it a
spell; then, when you are good and ready, put on the next. Just feeling
sort of spunky about it--just wanting to show some one that time is
nothing to you--what's the hurry?

Then--oh, what _motif_ in music could do a Del Monte breakfast justice?
Just yesterday you were gulping down a bite, in between getting the
family fed and off. Here you were