Eleanor Randolph Wilson McAdoo to Jessie Woodrow Wilson Sayre

This is actually Sunday night and I am really and truly starting a letter to you. Can you believe it? But I have only about fifteen minutes left and so can only write a short note. If we could only keep our lights on a little bit longer on Sunday nights; but we have to put them out at nine-thirty!Lent is in full swing now, if it isn't wrong to use such an expression, and everything is as quiet as a mouse, while the church going is even more continuous, though it hardly seems possible. There are no more parties and we can't go to the theatre so there is nothing at all of interest to tell you about. I heard from Mother on Friday and she sent me the samples of a little pink dimity and a little blue one which are going to be made into dresses for you and me. Won't that be dear and won't we look nice together. The Tell me how yours is going to be made when you decide. Mother is going to send the stuff down to me so I can have it made here and wear it at Commencement. Mother said too that she would get me another little silk jumper suit and then athe day after I got the letter—just yesterday—a box came from Wanamakers and in it the most adorable, beautiful little tan silk jumper suit you ever did see. It is perfectly dear, all made in one piece and just fits me exactly in every way. It was such a surprise! Wasn't it dear of Mother to get it for me and so soon too—just when I needed it a lot.
I am so glad that your Greek dress is going to be made soon. I am simply wild to see it. How is your graduating dress going to be made and what out of? My! This certainly is a clothes-y letter but “Spring is coming, spring is coming—I can hear the birdies singing” and everyone's got clothes on the brain, especially down here.
To change the subject abruptly—Miss Thomas told me the other day to ask you when I wrote to please tell me some of the subjects on which you all have debated in your literary society meetings and such things. Because she, and everybody else, is trying to decide on some subject for the intersociety debate which comes sometime in April, and she thought she could get some ideas from the debates you all have had at the Womans College. So would you mind telling me as soon as you can. (I am writing in the bathroom now, as the light bell rang and this was the only place where I could get any light on the subject to finish this very important letter. But I am in deadly fear that I will be caught, so I'll have to finish right quick.) I am sending you a little picture that we had taken. It is Nell Kintner, the Buffalo girl, sitting down, with the plumes in her hat; and Helen Hunter standing behind us. It isn't so very bad of them though you can see how awful I look. I hope I don't really look like that, but you never can tell, till you have your beauty struck, how beautiful you really are, isn't it the truth?Good-bye my own precious, darling Jay-jay. I love you more than you will ever know, and oh if I could only see you now and hug you.
With a whole heap of love