It seems years since I have had time to write anything in this journal. The children have been at us to go on a cruise, but Cornelius and I feel exactly the same. The winter is a terrific adventure, and we are getting all the cruising we need learning about being winter people at last. I must say February is the worst yet as far as the weather goes. There has been sleet and freezing rain on top of the packed snow. Driving a car has been really nerve-racking. Nevertheless Eben has managed to come down in his jeep once or twice a week. Who could have imagined even a month ago that I would be just a little jealous of Eben, and Cornelius not at all jealous! He and Cornelius have long talks about philosophy, politics and things. Eben brings books over and sometimes reads aloud. Then they go at it like two college boys, and it’s very clear that they are just as glad if I absent myself. Of course each has been starved for just this sort of conversation—starved for another male, in fact. Anyway this unexpected turn of events has given me time to have some good long visits with Ellen. I am anxious about her. Quite suddenly she looks so frail, so tired. And she reacts to feeling low by being more than usually critical of everything and everyone, so occasionally I get exasperated. She had quite a set-to with Jem about the school chapter. He is pressing us to get those chapters to him by Town Meeting Day. That is the deadline. But, good heavens, he has just “passed the buck” as Ellen says bitterly, and expects us to do his work. She is cross partly because she, like me, has discovered that it is quite easy to criticize a piece of writing (Ellen has a keen critical sense) but very hard indeed to produce something even halfway as good oneself. I wonder whether she will ever finish her chapter. She polishes one or two pages over and over, and then gives up. Cornelius is helping her now. He is constantly amazed at her wit and intelligence. Dear man, it has taken him all these years to take the village in. But now he is making himself felt in all kinds of ways. Last time Ed came to play cribbage he nearly persuaded Cornelius to run for Selectman. It’s a splendid idea. He would do it so well, and he would enjoy it. But would the village elect him? Cornelius thinks not. And I can feel, too, that he is not sure enough of himself. He still tires very easily. When Eben comes, I put Cornelius to bed before supper and take him a tray.