Went to church this morning. It seemed like a little trip back home.
This afternoon wrote letters for tomorrow's mail, while Jack tried to get friendly with a surf-board. He said to give everybody his regards—that's the way he always writes letters. He thinks he's the greatest surfer on the beach because he caught a wave today. He came in with it all right—but the board was on top.
This is the most marvelous climate. The days are never too hot, and the nights are always cool, though never chilly, and the atmosphere is clear, never sticky or muggy the least bit.
Hawaiian boys sang Hawaiian songs while we were at dinner, and gave a concert on the lanai afterward. I love their music. I am going to get a ukulele tomorrow and take some lessons. I shall not tell Jack until I begin to practice.
