I am sending you a box of goodies for your day-after-Thanksgiving spread. I am afraid some of the things are contraband, but people who make rules would not make them unless they expected schoolgirls and their outrageous young fathers to break them. I fancy I have concealed the true nature of the contents of the box, and unless the supervision is very thorough, it will pass muster and the contraband articles find the way to their destination--your little insides. Love to Jinny Cox.