1st December 1897
My dear Kathleen
I really must make a start on the numerous letters that I have to answer, & as Father wrote to May last night I will write my first epistle to you. Thank you & May so much dears, for your nice kind letter on the birth of your dear little sister. I am so happy to think that you should make the little one so welcome, she is a dear little mite as I think you will all say; she is not very big, weighed 6¾ lbs at a week old, but is nice and plump & has a pretty shaped head & quite a fair lot of hair for a baby. I am rather disappointed that I cannot nurse her myself, after the first few days my milk seemed to gradually disappear & now there is none left so I am obliged to let her have the bottle entirely, however I am glad to say her food seems to suit her & she gets on very nicely & is generally very good. Poor little Cyril, I expect he does not quite like being deposed from babyhood, however when he comes home & sees his little sister & finds he is made as much of as ever, he will not mind. I shall be quite glad to get him & Ethel home again, it is so quiet with none of you at home, I don’t know what we should have done without Mary, she has been so kind in doing all sorts of things, & has also kept Father from being so dull. Our lady servant comes in tomorrow, poor thing, it seems sad to think of her being so frightfully poor to take such a place, I wonder how we shall get on with her. I like Nurse Churchill very much, she seems a very nice woman, & looks after Baby & me well, also she is most obliging - does not seem to expect a lot of waiting upon, but is quite ready to do things herself. Baby has several presents already. Mary has given her a very pretty hood, Auntie Polly two nice woolly jackets, & yesterday Miss Kirton sent her four pairs of shoes. I have got on capitally this time. I was on the sofa yesterday for the first time and was none the worse for it so I hope by the time you all come home again to be tolerably strong. I heard from Auntie Fanny this morning from Paris, they are waiting there for a day or two longer on account of the rough weather, she says poor Uncle is no better & is always in pain, poor fellow.
With much love to you both, dears
Your loving mother
Eugénie N. Sladden