Thurs., 18 A good day. Some snow, which clears away into sunshine. Work on Grace’s blue silk & get the ins & outs of it. Letter from Anna. Fresh salmon for dinner which is very good. Like is made up of small things in this quiet corner. A year ago to-day my friend passed out; the old one to whom I often went for help, and a lot of memories fill the day. Memories of the little band who met in the prayer room on Thursday nights & vowed to “stand by.” Where are they now? Iona Mill Ends return my check for gingham. What shall I do now?
I wonder if the friend who died was Mrs. Hindes, mentioned often in earlier diaries.