NEW YORK—Yesterday afternoon I had a telephone call from Boston. The doctors weren't satisfied and would like to do a small operation on Franklin, Junior's nose. After some consideration, eleven-thirty this morning was fixed on. Mrs. Scheider got me accommodations on the midnight train for Boston while I went at four-thirty to meet with a group of Camp Fire Girls from Larchmont at the headquarters on Union Square. One smart, very solemn youngster made me a speech on their conservation programme. She told of a park reclaimed and put to use.

There is a plan afoot for every girl to plant two trees and if she not only plants but cares for them, our state governments may find in the Camp Fire Girls rivals of the CCC in conservation work!

I dropped in then for a brief visit at the Downtown Gallery, 113 West 13th Street. Here some erstwhile WPA painters and art workers have some work on exhibition at prices which you and I can perhaps afford. In the collection you will surely find something you would like to look at day in and day out.

I think you will get a thrill also out of a case of Carl Walters' ceramics. My pennies are going to be saved until I have one of these bowls or plates or quaint animals to enjoy in my own home. In the mean-time I'm going again to the Downtown Gallery.

Mrs. Grenville Emmet , home with her husband who is our Minister to The Hague, for a visit; Mrs. Franklin K. Lane and Mr. and Mrs. James Kieran dropped in to tea. Then in a flurry of haste I got off to dine with my mother-in-law and go to the concert for the benefit of the Women's Trade Union League. I had never but once heard Eme. Flagstad sing before and last night she soared above all the praise I had heard and I enjoyed every minute of the evening.

Back in my apartment to collect the bare necessities and at midnight I took the train for Boston.

This morning at Phillips House I found a disgusted young man and an equally disgusted doctor for the patient had a slight temperature and nothing could be done. Quiet is the order of the day so I came back to New York where I will again be at the end of a telephone.

I was to go to the Buckley School this morning at nine o'clock to see my grandson act in a play so when I changed my plan. I had to offer him Mrs. Scheider in my place and promised to go tomorrow if I could. I will be there but sad to say I will not see the play and he was I am told a grand Revolutionary drummer boy! May his military service always be confined to the past!