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TWO letters in the afternoon mail; both requiring answers. Most important, a note from Morgan Carew, inviting me to come to Wales and join in some excavations he plans making this fall. He has stumbled over a promising-looking mound near the village of Cag na Gith, not far from Chatsworth, and expects some interesting digging. There is a dolmen in a pretty fair state of preservation on one of the hills, and Carew thinks some instructive kitchen-middens will be found in the neighborhood.
The second is a favor from Alice Frasanet, asking me to tea at 4 tomorrow. I suppose I may curse Frank Seabring for that. Ever since he met the girl he’s been dancing attendance on her, singing my praises when other conversational topics failed. There are several drawbacks to having an assistant of the
