Eleanor Randolph Wilson McAdoo to Jessie Woodrow Wilson Sayre

This much of this letter was written on Sunday and then, as usual, I got interrupted and now it is Monday afternoon. It is such a shame that I get interrupted every time and get your letter so late. Both your dear letters came and oh, Detty, I get so excited when I think that it is really so near to the holidays that we can talk about going home and stopping and every thing. Darling, sweetest sister, I certainly will stop and spend the night with you if I possibly can. I will be wild to get home but when I get that near and when I am with you it will be almost like it. When does the Womans College close? I hope it is very soon after St Marys! Commencement begins on the twenty-seventh and ends on the thirty-first, and we start home, probably, on that same train that night—about one o'clock. I think the train is due in Baltimore about noon, but it won't get there until half past two or three if it does anything like last time. So, you see, I could spend the afternoon and night and starts early in the morning. Oh, I simply must stop talking about it, or I will get so thrilled I won't be able to write. It does seem sort of foolish to talk about trains and all now but it makes the time seem so much nearer, doesn't it?—I am perfectly furious because now I didn't get this off on the evening mail and it won't get there now until day after to-morrow probably. I am so sorry! Last night we had a most thrilling time. A whole lot of us got to-gether and put made the light dim and made a table rap. I had never done it before and it was really perfectly weird. We asked it all kinds of questions—mysteries that needed to be solved about the teachers and their pasts, things about our future husbands and present suitors and every kind of thing—and it answered every thing perfectly, though not always the way we wanted it. For instance it said that Louise hadn't met the man she was to marry yet and she didn't like that at all because she is already practically engaged. It did one thing that was so cute. We asked it if it would rap in time while one of us sang “Dixie” and it did it perfectly not just rappin rocking back and forth but really keeping time. And then we sang “Yankee Doodle” and it wouldn't budge! And we asked if it was the spirit of a cConfederate soldier and it said “yes it was.” Wasn't that dear? We got so crazy about doing stunts like that that to-day we made a “ouija board”. It is even weirder than the table, because it spells out sentences. It is a smooth board, with with the alphabet and numbers written on it and then a little thin piece of wood shaped like a triangle on pegs, that two people rests the tips of their fingers ever so lightly on and it just runs around and answers questions and does the funniest things. (You probably know exactly what it is from this vivid description, don't you?) We have been playing with it all day and that is the reason I have not done anything else that I intended to do. This afternoon it was very profane and shocked us awfully, but I suppose it was just mad because we had made it work so hard.
To change the subject suddenly—it certainly was fine to see dear little Tantchen, again. Didn't she look well and pretty. I wish she could have stayed longer. I was so suprised to see her, because I didn't have any idea that she had even thought of coming South again so soon. I know this letter hasn't told you a great variety of things, exactly but somebody has just said that it was half past eight and since we have to practise the Dramatic club play at nine I had better begin to do a little studying, don't you think so? Good-bye, sweetheart, I love you so, so much—with my whole heart. Oh, if I could only give you a great big hug and kuiss myself, darling. But never mind—only a little over five weeks now. With love for Mary C. and every one else