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Roble, Nov. 14, '96
Saturday morning

My dearest Nannie--

A queer time to be writing letters isn't it? But why not? I have
little preparing to do for Monday, and to-morrow Theodora is coming down
to spend the afternoon and I shall have no time then. This has been a
very quiet uneventful week and has simply flown. All exciting events
were crowded into last Sunday afternoon. After I dined with Mrs. Peck in
Palo Alto and read a few sonnets with her, I came back to the hall and
Helen Younger, Alice Colt, and I went over to call upon Mrs. Stanford.
She is apt to be home on Sundays as she is very fond of being here for
service in the chapel. Our object was to invite her to the Roble Thanks-
giving dance or at least to use her name as one of the patronesses. After
our cards had been carried in by the Chinese boy who came to the door, we
were ushered through a little ante-room into the library; it was about
twilight and the dark hued room with its heavy carved furniture was very
impressive. Mrs. Stanford was writing letters at her desk in the bay window,
and she received us very cordially and kindly. We talked for about an hour
and I sat where I had a perspective of the library, ante-library, and the
guest dining room where the table was set and made a very pretty interior.
The funny part of it was Mrs. S. was so bound up in metaphysical thought,
in memories of Leland and her hasband that I thought it would be simply
impossible to mention anything so mundane and frivolous as a Roble dance;
the opportunity came at last, however, and Mrs. Stanford seemed very pleased
& appreciative of the attention and said perhaps she might come tho' it
was a great strain upon her to meet people and especially people so near
Leland's age. When the lights were lit she showed us thru the rooms on the
first floor and we followed her rustling silk-lined skirts with much admiration,
she took us around the long veranda and showed us a beautiful glimpse through
the trees and lawns, and was very hospitable when we went. Before we found
her, we had chaffed a good deal about seeing our cards in the museum, etc.,
but after our call we felt ashamed of ourselves for she impressed us as being
a very sorrowful, lovely, woman though we had the feeling that she had been
acclimated to her wealth instead of being brought up in satin sleeves.
She dwells upon the personal thought of her loss so that she lives in a
future world where her conditions will be just as they were on this earth
before her dear ones left her sight; if it were not for her business cares
I have no doubt she would be far advanced in spiritualism. She spoke so
affectionately of Dr. Jordan, who evidently brings her no complaints or
wrongs & also has her utmost regard & confidence.

....

Bye-bye my precious Nannie.
Toodles.