Hotel des St. Péres--Paris, April 15, '17

Dearest Mother:  At last a free half-day and a good bed to lie on and tell you a little news. This week has been a hectic one! I must tell you first about the refugees, for that has been my principal work and I have just finished three solid hours going over the records, to find that in the last five days we have cared for 269 people and given out 1,362 pieces of clothing. The latter part of last week was spent on daily shopping trips, exhausting proceedings resulting in camions full of women's chemises, stockings, drawers, boys' suits and girls' dresses, combinations, aprons, capes, caps and shawls. It is impossible to get large enough stockings to fit peasant women's feet, especially when they have been frozen, and the shoe problem is a terrible one, the prices being prohibitive here when you come to get any quantity, and the only American shoes we have at the Fund¹ are for children, down to very small sizes. So any friends with enormous feet! please send your shoes to the Fund over here to be given to the people whose homes are in ruins and who have no belongings but the few clothes on their backs. All these things we took up to a room, underground, at the Gare du Nord, next to the canteen Mme. Courcol runs. I stacked them on shelves according to their sizes and their kind. This took one solid day, and then we were ready to begin.  The people come in at all times during the day and night. They come in baggage cars, crowded in compartments, herded like cattle, with no wills of their own. They are all put in one huge room on their arrival, women, very old and very young, babies only a few months old, and children all younger than Edward. Most of them have been traveling for days on foot a good part of the way at first, then by camion, then taken on the trains, spending nights on stations floors, being fed when it was possible, and at last being landed here, only to start off again after a few hours to some unknown place somewhere in the country. Some have friends or parents living here with whom they go and stay, and hope to find work either in munition factory or elsewhere. Many are too broken to work. Many have gone to addresses of some distant relatives, and found those relatives gone since the war began. A few are fortunate enough to have some definite home awaiting them. It was suggested that I make a record of where they were going and what they were going to do, but there was no use doing that, for they did not know. Of course there is a record kept of each family and its future by the committee of their own department, only as far as their own feelings go when they pass through our room, there is no place. Most of them come in groups. A mother of thirty-five, who makes you start when she tells her age because she looks so much older; an old, old grandmother, and once in a while a grandfather, an aunt or a friend, two children and perhaps one or two friends' children whom they have brought along and taken care of, even with all the overwhelming troubles of their own, they think and care for their neighbors. There was one young mother of 24 with a four year old little boy, who had had hidden a French soldier in her house for 30 months in the midst of the Germans and he had gotten away safely. Her husband was fighting in Salonique and had had fever down there. She had a friend in Paris whom she thought she could live with and she hoped to find work. She was a courageous little woman. There was a little girl of 11 with thin and worn old parents, whose right arm was paralyzed, and they said her head was queer from the terrible shock of seeing a companion shot down by the Germans. Poor little thing-- we gave her a doll and she was so happy over it. That is the first case of a real physical injury I have come across, but I don't think you need doubt many of the tales regarding such things that you may hear. Most of the children seem strong and healthy, which seems surprising, and yet it is probably a case of survival of the fittest. Perhaps you would like to know what we give them. Each family gets a white sack in which to put their things--a cake of soap (your soap), a towel for each member, a package of needles, thread and buttons, a piece of candy for each child, sometimes a toy, and I have a few of your knives that I give to the boys, shoes for those who have none or very worn ones, a change of underwear apiece, a suit of clothes for those most in need, and some kind of covering. Miss Thorp and some other helper--they change off every day--fit out the people and I superintend and offer suggestions from the end of the table, then make a record of names, ages, places from which they come and the things they get. Every morning Polly² and I get up at 7:30. We ought to get up before, only it's difficult, dress and have our breakfast upstairs at 8. Then we leave for the garage by metro. at half past, dust our children (motors) and she drives to the Fund to write letters or run errands, while I take workers up to the station and keep the records from 10 until 12:30. Then if we are lucky, Polly and I meet at Duval's for lunch. In the p.m. I sometimes get in an hour at one of the trunks which are stowed in the theatre, and then am off again for the station at 4:30, to stay until we finish with all the people, which is about 7. Then back to the garage with "Boston,"³ put in essence and take a quick look to see that everything is O.K. Dinner for us is usually 8--you know I've always wanted dinner at 8! only with this life it's pretty strenuous. Still I thrive on it and seem to be managing well. Ti⁴ travels in the Metro. under my coat and behaves like an angel, never stirring so that he has not yet been discovered. He has his cushion under the table at the station and is loved by everyone. I at last managed to get hold of Bully on the phone and she came in to dinner last night. She looks a little worn by the work but in good spirits and has enjoyed the things you sent her enormously. She went home with jam and dates in her pockets, and as soon as I can manage it, I am going to take her a lot more coffee and a few more underclothes for her men. In a way, she can give to individuals far better than I can. Unfortunately I was not at the Fund when Carrel came in, but Polly saw him and I'll send him out some of your surprise bags. I found Father's little fly-trap one of the most ingenious little things I have ever seen. If the flies would only begin and we could try it! Tell him please to write me a good long letter. I know he is doing interesting things and I want to hear about them. I hear you have been having balmy weather! Here we still freeze and no one thinks of spring clothes. Please spare me from any! I've more clothes than I know what to do with & their [sic] in terrible care. More news in another
[written on side of p. 4] letter, for I fear another page to this will try the carrier's patience.

General note:   For the most part, transcripts retain the author's original spelling, abbreviations, underlining, capitalization, and punctuation (or lack thereof).   Transcriber's comments, changes or additions are in brackets.

1. American Fund for French Wounded
2. Theodora's cousin, Polly Herter
3. "Boston" was name of the delivery truck
4. Theodora's dog, "Tito"