warfare, and the cleanest acre of forest
or prairie under the sun somewhere has its stains of blood and its
record of cruelty. We talked about Susie and the negative phrasing of
the ten moral laws and the Horned Dinosaur from Sand Hill Creek (whose
bones Peter reckoned to be at least three million years old) and the
marriage customs of the Innuits. And we talked about Matzenauer and
Kreisler and the best cure for chilblains and about Gershom and Poppsy
and Dinkie--but most of all about Dinkie.

Peter asked me if I'd seen Dinkie's school essays on _The Flag_ and
_The Capture of Quebec_, and rather surprised me by handing over
crumpled copies of the same, Dinkie having proudly despatched these
masterpieces all the way to Philadelphia for his "Uncle Peter's"
approval. It hurt me, for just one foolish fraction of a second, to
think my boy had confidences with an outsider which he could not have
with his own mother. And then I remembered that Peter wasn't an
outsider. I realized how much he had brought into my laddie's life,
how much, in a different way, he had brought into my own. I even tried
to tell him about this. But he stopped me short by saying something in
Latin which he later explained meant "by taking the middle course we
shall not go amiss." So I came back to Casa Grande, not exactly with a
feeling of frustration, but with a feeling of possibilities withheld
and issues deferred. It was a companionable enough tramp, I suppose.
But I'm afraid I was a disappointment to Peter. His gaiety impressed
me as a bit forced. I am slightly mystified by his refusal, while
taking serious things seriously, to take anything tragically. Even at
tea, with all its air of the valedictory hanging over us, he was nice
and gay, like the Christmas beeves the city butchers stick paper
rosettes into, or the circus-band playing like mad while the tumbler
who has had a fall is being carried out to the dressing-tent. Peter
even offhandedly inquired, as he was going, if he might have Scotty to
take care of, provided it was not expedient to take Dinkie's dog
along to Calgary with us.... I'm not quite certain--I may be wrong,
but there are moments, odd earthquakey moments, when I have a
suspicion that Peter will be keeping more than Scotty after we've
trekked off to Calgary!

_Saturday the Fourth_

This tearing up of roots is a much sorrier business than I had
imagined. And more difficult. I find it hard to know what to take and
what