I had come to a large house to play bridge. First we sat at a table for tea. The cookies were odd looking things and there were rolls and graham muffins. I asked for butter and apologized saying that I thought I had seen butter over there when the hostess said she had none. There were tempting cups of fruitcake but they weren't passed to my regret and all of a sudden the table was cleared and all the other guests had gone to Mrs. Fonda. Hostess said she'd take me over but she took me to her house instead. In her bedroom upstairs she showed me a bedspread made of cross-stitch on canvas in red, brown and dull green with one lighter piece. She said her mother had made it and after death she had found other squares and put them together. I told her of father's slippers (we had made them when I was 10). Then we were downstairs and I didn't know how to get to Mrs. Fonda's. The hostess was gone but two women in colored prints were there, evidently maids. One started to show me the way, going thru kitchen, outdoors and upstairs to a workshop. I fall and find dress hem full of Spanish needles. Pick them out. One of the two or three children asks, "wash hands?" I see mine are brown with mud and wash them under the faucet. I notice my blue skirt is quite wet.