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Letter to her mother discussing how her mother can send money to Ralph, travel arrangements home for the break, and her plans to go into Boston.


[15 February, 1934] Jan 18 ‘34 [typed] [stationary heading] News from Wellesley College WELLESLEY COLLEGE PRESS BOARD Wellesley, Massachusetts Release Monday Dearest, Your letter received, thought about, and enclosed is the re-editing effort. I'm afraid I was a bit ruthless, but it seemed to me that his reaction would be, “Gosh she's a swell person, but of course I couldn't accept it.” And if I know your unselfishness, you really mean for him to do it. Which I think is mighty sweet of you, and very like your thoughtfulness, darling. However, I don't think you could ever get him to accept your very definitely stated proposition. You would have to make him understand it was a favor to you in order to even have him consider taking money from “his gal’s mother”. Don't you think? Also I think it was grand of you to think of all the details, but maybe he wouldn't like to be told all about them--I mean he'll probably think of everything when he's considering the proposition, and it’ll have to be somewhat subtle in order to get him. Lee suggested that you don't say, “Figure out the cost and let me know”, because, well, can you imagine him handing you an expense account in advance and accepting money just like that? I'm quite sure he wouldn't do it at all. But she said she thought she’d inclose, say, $15 in cash in the letter. Then what he didn't use, he'd return, and that ought to be adequate for his needs. The whole thing has to be quite casual somehow, and if you raally [mis-spelling: really] mean to do it, it will have to be in a way so that he will realize just how grand it is of you, but won't put him under any more obligations. See? Don't take the things about seeing me in between time seriously. It just sounds good, but will work out quite differently in actual practice, don't worry! And I wouldn't mention anything about my [Page 2] coming home soon. When you’ve passed the point of your letter, you don't need an anticlimax, and I'll write and tell him I'm expecting to come. However, I'm quite sure it will be by bus. There's no more danger of sliding in a bus than in a car, and I won't mind getting home so late. As for meeting me, aren't there taxis in Schenectady? With perfectly responsible drivers who undertake to deliver me safely to the very doorstep? After all, there's no sense of paying $5 more just for the sake of a few hours, and the comfort is quite inconsequential--a coach, and a let-down bus cushioned chair amount to practically the same thing in the long run. Anyway, I'll be so glad finals are over that it won't matter how I get away. Heavens I wouldn't mind riding a horse if I had to. I wrote to Mum Mum yesterday, casually mentioning the fact that I was coming home if I could swing the trip, and congratulating her on the success of her party. But that was about the extent of the day's activities, socially speaking. Mary Emlen came over for dinner, and we listen to the New York Symphony while we worked. The paper is coming along. I wrote Ted a note asking his advice and telling him I was coming into Boston Wednesday, politely inquiring if India and the 50 pages got written even during meals, or no, so I have an idea that I'll be meeting him after the Italians. It will be the last time I'll go in, at least until after the new semester, so ease your mind, darling. Washed my hair and set it Saturday, and it went into waves surprisingly easily and looks quite presentable. Smart, huh? Nope, didn't go anywhere, but it's comfortably soft. But I must woik [mis-spelling: work]! So bye for now. You are such a very grand person, beside being my mother. P.S. I can taste that Blueberry Pie!!! Love, Ginny [handwritten in the bottom margin of page 2] /over/ [handwritten] Just had a thought. Don't send it to him until [deletion: Wednesday] Thursday. He'll get my letter asking him, on Thursday, will be a little prepared, & have time to consider how disappointed he'll be not to be able to come. Then your letter will arrive on Friday before he has time to refuse & everything will be psychologically hunky-dory. O.K.? You don't have to send him my revision, but that's the way I’d do it if I were in your place. How did the play come out?


Wellesley, Massachusetts; Schenectady, New York


Home and Family; Personal Relationships; Student Life

Letter from Virginia Veeder Westervelt, Wellesley, Massachusetts, to Mrs. Millicent Veeder, Schenectady, New York, 1934 January 15