I feel like crying with remorse for the way I have treated you since you left, my sweet little Sister—but I am doing the more sensible thing and the thing that will please you more and that is sitting down to write to you. Do you notice I say sitting down to write. I don't dare say writing for night before last on my return from New York I sat down to write to you and was interrupted. Every minute since I have been entertaining callers or house guests. I am so tired just this minute that I feel as if my ear drums were going to burst.
Please forgive me dearest though I don't deserve forgiveness. It seems to me that ever since our return from Pass Christian I have succeeded in leaving undone most of the things that I ought to have done, and yet I am busy, horribly busy, not in general over things that I ought to do, either. I guess I am just inadequate to the job of being the oldest daughter of the President.
Thank you, dear little sister mine, for your invitation. I should like nothing better than to run up to Williams right this minute, even if it is bitter cold but I am tied up with engagements from now on until April, alas. Oh, dearie, I am so homesick for you. That old Frank! I'm so jealous of his having you all to himself. We miss you more all the time instead of less. That's the truth about me, and I think it must be so with the others.
You and Frankwill stay with us all summer won't you? Please don't go and accept invitations elsewhere. That would be cruel of you.
Don't worry about the Mexican situation. Mr Tumulty says it is bad for the time being but he is not worried over the out come. That's all I know, so that's all I can tell you.
Everything else is going along all right—I began mean Politics. But Mother is not well. The doctor says that she is not seriously ill, but that it is a slight nervous breakdown. She sleeps most of the day. Today she is better and the doctor says that it won't be a long illness. Don't worry over her, dear, for she is really not seriously ill. I think that she will have to take this sickness as a warning not to go so hard and that we ought to be thankful that it is not worse for she has been under too a great strain, doing entirely too much.
I have to stop and dress for dinner, dear heart.
Give my best love to Frank.
With enduring and devoted love for you, wonderful Jessie,