_SUNDAY, MAY 31ST, 1914.

Precious mother,

I’ve been dying to write you at least six times a day since I posted my letter to you the day before yesterday, but rules are rules, aren’t they, especially if one makes them oneself, because then the poor little things are so very helpless, and have to be protected. I couldn’t have looked myself in the face if I’d started off by breaking my own rule, but I’ve been thinking of you and loving you all the time—oh, so much!

Well, I’m very happy. I’ll say that first, so as to relieve your darling mind. I’ve seen Kloster, and played to him, and he was fearfully kind and encouraging. He said very much what Ysaye said in London, and Joachim when I was little and played my first pie