Dear Mother, Father, and Pete: 
This is a borrowed typewriter, which means that all mistakes are to be excused. I was offered a fifteen page typewriting job, but I simply have not got the time for anything like that. The girl was desperate, so I lent her my machine. I am so busy and in such a constant state of sleepiness and dopiness that I get nothing accomplished and continue to 
have stacks to do. Thank goodness it will be over soon, or I am sure I would not last to the end of the term. I had a conference with Miss Kitchel this morning. She thinks I show considerable improvement, part cularly since I 
came back. I am quite sure that I can make the necessary improvement in my writing by keeping tab on myself, without taking a writing course. I went to see Miss White in her office hour today, but she was not there. The second language does not worry me in the 
least, only I don't want to take it. I fully intend to take an exam next fall. A big math quiz will take place tomorrow. Here is hoping I will soon get some work off my hands. Love, 
[Fannie] My clothes are all right. The only thing that it will be necessary to send is the foulard. It is very little too tight. I am 
sorry if I have kept you rushing with them--it was so much easier for me to send them than to walk or ride to a dressmaker, but then it was not easier for you. I began to feel much worse today. I suppose the reason is the evident one. The letters were interesting. Don't send any more medicine until I ask for it. [May 18]