room.

The Blue Bedroom, where we had slept the night before as guests of the Roosevelts, belongs to one of the four corner suites and I planned to give it to my sister Eleanor, Mrs. Louis More, and her husband, while the smaller room in the same suite I assigned to Miss Torrey, our Aunt Delia⁠—and during our administration apparently the country’s “Aunt Delia.” She had been staying with us at the Boardmans’ and was probably enjoying the Inauguration of her nephew more than anyone in Washington. The last of the suites, which was exactly like the blue suite except that it was hung in pink brocade, I gave to my husband’s sister and brother-in-law, Dr. and Mrs. Edwards of San Diego.

When I had finished my explorations and arrangements I glanced at the clock in the Pink Room and discovered that I had no time to lose before beginning that important toilet which would make me ready for the Inaugural Ball, the last, but not the least of the Inaugural functions.

I hurried to my room and found the hairdresser waiting for me. I sat down with a feeling of great comfort and submitted myself with hopeful patience to her ministrations. But she was so overcome by the greatness of the occasion that, although she was quite accustomed to the idiosyncrasies of my hair, she was not able to make it “go right” until she had put it up and taken it down twice, and even then it was not as perfectly done as I had fondly hoped it would be. I believe this hairdressing process made me more nervous than anything else in the whole course of the day.