Find myself at the railroad station in my hometown in a buggy drawn by a splendid horse. Ground is very muddy. Numerous other vehicles (?autos of buggies) are parked in a large, barren area between station and road. I walk over to Marv and ask him whether he states number of type specimens after a description of a new species. Marv, in a somewhat contemptuous tone, answers no, that this information is given, by inference, in the remarks on variation, etc.; he also asks whether I have "pre-knowledge" (i.e., something in the nature of esoteric information) of the number of types. I am considerably nettled by his superior attitude and discourteous tone of voice, and I answer that there are times when the number of types should be stated. Soon thereafter I drive away (though my vehicle seems now to be an auto), thread my way (see diagram) through the parked cars, cross a narrow ditch, and gain the road, (farther back than the first Myers home) and the walls seem to be covered with metal (smooth) siding. I speculate as to whether is was Mrs. Myers who wanted the house set so far from the road -- to escape the noise and dirt of the traffic. I bring with me 3 long (about 6-7 feet) slender, flat-sided stakes, sharpened at one end. The flat sides of the stakes are at such angles as to permit the stakes to be packed closely together. The stakes are painted yellow. my purpose in bringing them is that they are supposed to be returned to the place where the milk comes from (evidently I had some milk from Myers). It is 7:15 a.m. and dark -- no light either in Myer's house or in their barn, and I feel very dubious about being able to see any of them. In spite of the darkness I see several pails or similar containers, full of milk, in a long hallway, or entry. I lean stakes against south wall of house (though I am tempted to take the stakes back home with me, as I feel they would be useful for something or other), approach kitchen door with intention of knocking, but am surprised to see Harold and an old, thin, frail-looking lady coming toward kitchen door from some inner room. I greet the lady "Hello, Mrs. Myers" though I realize immediately that she is not Mrs. Myers, but Mrs.Nancy Palmer with certain facial characteristics of Jane Newby. They explain that Mrs. Myers is out of town; also that they knew I was coming because of a light (though I was not aware of any light) I was carrying. The lad wore a "dust cap."