The Quintland Sisters(82)
Asked if it would be possible to take the quintuplets to Sudbury or some other point on the royal itinerary to meet the King and Queen, Dr. Dafoe replied: “It is out of the question. We have already refused an invitation to go to the World’s Fair in New York. The same reasons apply in this instance, namely, the dangers of infection, excitement, and the bad effect of close contact with crowds. It simply cannot be done,” he concluded.
The sisters have hitherto never travelled more than the one-eighth of a mile from the farm where they were born.
Used with permission.
January 4, 1939
Dr. Dafoe was back today, finally, after Mr. Cartwright was able to clear the road.
The girls went wild when they saw his car pull up in the courtyard, then threw themselves at him when he came through the door, his boots puddling the floor. “Docteur, docteur,” they hollered, saying it properly now, and bombarding him further with tales of le père No?l, la Vierge Marie, le petit Jésus, and le bonhomme de neige—all of whom they seem to credit with delivering their windfall of cadeaux, on Christmas Eve.
Dr. Dafoe himself was holding five big packages, beautifully wrapped in each of the girl’s colors. They tore through the paper to find five identical Shirley Temple dolls with eyes that rolled and real curlers to curl their hair. The girls were ecstatic about the dolls, not paying any attention to the autographed photo that came in each box. Of course, they had no recollection of ever meeting someone named Shirley Temple, nor would they understand why she is famous, so they have no need for a signed photo. To them, these are simply five beautiful dolls, exactly the same, with hair that needs curling every morning. Just like them.
Dr. Dafoe made it clear that he’s livid the royal itinerary does not include a visit to Quintland. After the girls opened their gifts, he stomped off with George to his office, anger steaming off him like an engine’s plume in winter. We could hear him barking into the telephone so loudly his voice carried to the other end of the nursery. He and George were shut away the rest of the day—a relief, frankly. I don’t know how to act around George now, or where to look, although he is as friendly with me as ever. It will only be worse when Miss Callahan returns from her break this weekend. All I can picture is his face that night as I spied on them through the open door, the corners of his lips curling upward, his eyes dancing like a fire. It is giving me a cramp in the pit of my stomach.
January 12, 1939
Miss Emma Trimpany Dafoe Hospital and Nursery Callander, ON
Dear Emma,
I’m so glad you wrote back and I’m thrilled that you’re considering the scholarship. I’ve enclosed a document listing the types of work you would need to include, which you should review in detail. You will need at least 12 completed pieces, including a mix of drawing samples and color, with a range of different mediums represented.
You will also need some still lifes and landscapes: I think you told me you spent time last summer doing some nature sketches? I hope so. It’s also essential that you include a self-portrait. Here, my guess is you may have some work to do. I can tell you, as hard as you may find it at first, you will quickly realize what an interesting and rewarding exercise this can be. Don’t shy from the truth—that’s what I always tell my students. The truth is us, at our best and our worst, and our self-portraiture should reflect that.
Perhaps you could send me a list of works you feel could be included today, and those that you’ll have to complete before the deadline. Better yet, if you still have that handsome photographer making his daily visits, see if he can take some photographs of your completed work and send some prints my way.
Yours in anticipation, Maud Tousey Fangel
145 East 72nd
New York, NY
January 18, 1939
Miss Emma Trimpany Dafoe Hospital and Nursery Callander, ON
Dear Emma,
Your news is distressing but I truly don’t know how much or how little to make of Ivy’s gossip. It is thirdhand, or more, as you say. It’s all upsetting, but I also think you need to use your own eyes and your own wits and make your own decisions. Much of it seems pretty far-fetched.
Have you been pondering Mrs. Fangel’s scholarship? If you can’t get your mind around a move to America, what about applying closer to home? The Ontario College of Art in Toronto, perhaps. Or even the école des Beaux-Arts here in Montreal. Back when my father was trying to talk me out of aeronautics, he used to say, the simplest decisions lead to happiness. I tend to disagree. I have long believed that it is making the harder choices that makes one happy, and when I’m at my happiest, the hard things become easier. I’ve never been much good at gauging other people’s happiness, but my sense is that it’s your art, Emma Trimpany, that brings you joy. I would have to say, choose the harder path.
As for me, I’ll be happy when the weather improves and we can test our planes. My poor pigeons, too, would be happy to see a sunny day again. It’s been so many straight weeks of snow none of us can quite remember how the sky looked without it.
Yours sincerely, Lewis
11 Rue Saint Ida
Montreal, Quebec
January 20, 1939
Mr. Munro visited today, shuttering himself with Dr. Dafoe for most of the morning, which of course made me wonder how much truth there may have been to Ivy’s gossip.