Thursday, Jan 21, 1886 Another rainy depressing day. It seems to me New York winters are largely made up of such weather. I went to Tiffanys and ordered the umbrella, a telegram having come from Girard last night just as I was going to bed. I have been at work on my picture all day but as usually results when I try to repeat my pictures I do not succeed very well. Whittredge made me a long and very satisfactory call. I am full of worries. Have not yet sent my letter to Detroit because I have not heard from my note I sent to Rondout to be discounted. I am beginning to fear they will refuse to do it. If they do I will be in despair as I have promised some money on the strength of it. I had a letter from Nannie inviting me to dinner with them with Sara and the Cantines on Saturday and I have accepted. If I do not get some money I will not want to go home. What a state to be in. I am tired to death of it. Had a long letter from Mary Gifford who says she is very well this winter but far from happy I fear. Who is happy I wonder? I spent the evening at Marys reading Howells "Indian Summer" which is concluded in this number of Harper.
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