The Quintland Sisters(77)
The papers here are full to bursting with details of the Quints’ upcoming tonsil operation. You’d think they were getting extra toes sewn onto their feet for all the interest the press is taking. Why do they even need these things out? Don’t tonsils serve some kind of natural purpose? What are tonsils exactly?
The company bigwigs at Canadian Car and Foundry are haggling with the British government, which wants our firm to build them some planes: we are all on pins and needles, myself included. If this contract comes through, I won’t have to worry about waking up from this dream, doing work I love. As much as I miss home, this is where I belong, doing this.
That said, I have a few days’ leave over Christmas that I plan to spend in Callander and will be helping my father with the plowing and transfers to Quintland while I’m home. My brother and his wife will be in town with my little niece, Sheryl, who is about the same age as your Edith. Maybe we’ll have the chance to visit? Some things, however, are easier to say in writing, so I’ll just come right out and ask: I can’t help but notice that you’ve mentioned George Sinclair in every letter. What should I take from this, Emma? Are you spoken for? Or are you merely friendly? I appreciate, in the year you’ve had, friends at the nursery are few and far between. And yet . . .
Yours curiously, Lewis
11 Rue Saint Ida
Montreal, Quebec P.S. Rock doves, unlike film stars and millionaires, are believed to pair for life.
October 27, 1938 (Toronto Star)
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EDITORIAL: IN A CLASS BY THEMSELVES
Canada has her Niagara Falls, but she shares them with the United States; and Africa has Victoria Falls. Canada has the picturesque streets and conveyances of Old Quebec; New Orleans, too, has quite a strong French flavour. We have our Niagara Peninsula’s peach trees; California has its orange groves. We are proud of the St. Lawrence; our cousins think highly of the Mississippi and Egypt is still watered by the Nile.
These attractions in Canada, though duplicated or approximated elsewhere, deserve all the praise they receive. But what is unique in this country, what we have that others have not, are the quintuplets. No wonder that, while there is no official word, it is practically certain that the King and Queen next summer will visit Callander. The possibility of the five little sisters themselves being taken somewhere to see Their Majesties is remote. Up to now, Yvonne, émilie, Annette, Marie, and Cécile have never been further than across the road from the house where they were born.
True, the day will come when the Dionne quintuplets will have to move about. If they are to be educated in a way befitting the responsibilities of world-fame, they will have to see the world. The problem of how to secure the privacy required in such travels will be baffling but it has not yet arisen. Someday these babies, as they grow into girlhood and young womanhood, will have to meet other friends of their own age, besides their brothers and sisters. They will meet young men. Yes, there will come a day when one of the quintuplets will be engaged. Imagine the furore then! And picture, if you can, the wedding day of the first of the Quints, unless, indeed, they wait for all to be even and hold one great quintuplet wedding!
Meanwhile, Their Majesties will have the pleasure of seeing their five little wards, happy, childish, well trained, polite and considerate, playing their games, singing their songs, doing their dances, and saying their prayers. What occurred in the Dionne household in the early morning of May 28, 1934, under the incredulous eyes of Dr. Dafoe, made human history, which has become of cumulative interest to the whole world. When King George and Queen Elizabeth return to England, the first question their daughters are likely to ask is, “Tell us all about the Quints!” That is one part of the trip the absent princesses will be most sorry to miss.
Used with permission.
October 28, 1938
All of the staff are going into North Bay to see the girls in Five of a Kind in the cinema there tonight. I’ve spent the past forty-five minutes trying to decide what to wear and another thirty minutes worrying about my hair. I’ve decided to wear a wide-brim hat and will leave it on until the theater lights go down.
Mr. Cartwright has been asked to ferry the rest of the staff, including the ladies from the kitchen. I saw Mr. Cartwright earlier today when I took some tea things back from George’s office, and he was looking well. I asked after Lewis, and he said, “Very well, very well.” Then he asked me if he’d be taking me in to see the picture later and I had to say I’d already accepted a ride with Mr. Sinclair. He seemed disappointed, I fear, but I assured him he’ll be seeing plenty of me any day now, when the snow falls and I’ll be calling on him to help me get home to see Edith.
I’ve decided on my green dress. It’s not particularly new, but I think it looks smart with my navy hat.
October 28, 1938—almost midnight
THE GIRLS WERE so sweet in the motion picture; it is enough to shatter your heart into a million pieces. The cinema was packed and erupted with laughter and sighs and whoops each time the girls did something silly, especially performing some of their musical numbers and tumbling with their puppies. Jean Hersholt, Cesar Romero, and Claire Trevor were also very good, of course, but our babies stole the show.
I can’t read George. I sat beside him in the theater and, when the lights went down, felt something like an electric current running between my knee and his, although he was a perfect gentleman and never so much as nudged me. Miss Callahan was on his other side, however, and I can’t quite get a reading on her either. When he turns to speak with me, I feel like he’s giving me every ounce of his attention. But then, I think that’s just George, because he’s as courteous and attentive with Nurse Corriveau and Miss Callahan as he is with me.