It snowed again this morning. Not very much, but enough to make things slippery. Phoebe and the colonel came to visit. They had walked up from their home, and poor Phoebe's nose was quite red from the cold. The colonel's nose is always red, thanks to his fondness for brandy. He disappeared into the bar the minute they arrived. I think Phoebe was quite relieved to be rid of him for a while.
I haven't seen Madeline since Christmas. I expect she is busy with little Angelina. Babies can be such a handful. Almost as much trouble as the colonel. I asked Clive to sweep the outside steps. He had put sand down earlier, to prevent our guests from falling. The trouble with that is that everyone walks sand into the lobby, and the maids have a terrible time getting it out of the carpet, even with the carpet sweepers. I wish we had electricity in the hotel. I would dearly love one of those new fangled machines I saw in a magazine. Apparently, one simply plugs it in and it sucks up all the dirt. Can you imagine? What time it would save us!
There are some things to be said for modern technology, though I do hate those dreadful motor cars and their noisy, smelly engines. Now they have machines that can fly. Heaven knows what this world is coming to, with all these machines. What if they fall out of the sky? Dreadfully dangerous if you ask me.
I've ordered a carriage to take me into Wellercombe. Samuel will be waiting for me, so I'd better sign this letter and be off. I hope you all have a wonderful week, and I will try to return next week with more news. Though things tend to be rather quiet in Badger's End this time of year. Considering all the excitement we had before Christmas, I'd say that's a good thing.
Cecily Sinclair Baxter
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