, and I bless
the Belgians, Servians, and Armenians, the Poles and the French orphans
for ridding me of a suffocating mass of things that I didn't use, and
yet felt obliged to keep.

My wardrobe is now the irreducible minimum, the French Relief has the
rest, and at last I have more than enough hangers in my closet to
support my frocks. The shoes that pinched but looked so smart that they
kept tempting me into one more trial have gone to the Red Cross Shop. No
more concerts will be ruined by them. The hat that made me look ten
years older than I like to think I do, accompanied them. It was a good
hat, almost new, and it cost--more than I pay for hats nowadays. I do
not need to wear it out. My large silver tea-pot given me by my maid of
honor did good work for the Belgians--I hope if she ever finds out about
its fate that she will be glad that it is now warm stockings for many
thin little Belgian legs. Nora, from Ireland, viewed its departure with
satisfaction--it made one less thing to polish. Many odds and ends of
silver followed, and were put into the melting-pot, being too homely to
survive--I'm saving enough for heirlooms for my grandchildren, of
course. One must not allow sentiment to go by the board; we need it
especially now that we have lost such quantities of it out of the world.
So much was "made in Germany," that old Germany of the fairy tales and
Christmas trees which seems to be gone forever.

I need not go on enumerating my activities. Every one has been doing the
same thing, and in all probability is now enjoying the same sense of
orderliness and freedom that I feel. Even the children have caught the
spirit. I was just leaving my house the other day when a palatial
automobile stopped at the gate and a very perfect chauffeur alighted and
touched his cap. "Madam," he said, "I have come for a case of empty
bottles that Master John says your little boy promised him for the Red
Cross." There was a trace of embarrassment in his manner, but there was
none in mine as I led him to the cellar and watched with satisfaction
while he clasped a cobwebby box of--dare I whisper it?--empty beer
bottles to his immaculate chest and eventually stowed it in the
exquisite interior of the limousine. How wonderful of the Red Cross to
want my bottles, and how intelligent of my "little boy" to arrange the
matter so pleasantly!

To do away with the needless accumulations of life, or better still, not
to let them accumulate, what