[Illustration: The Rt. Hon. Herbert Henry Asquith, Prime Minister
of Great Britain, 1908-1916]

It's lovely in London now--fine, shining days and showers at night
and Ranelagh beautiful, and few people here; but I don't deny its
loneliness--somewhat. Yet sleep is good, and easy and long. I have
neither an ocean voyage nor six kinds of meat and two meat pies and
currants. I congratulate myself and write to you and mother.

You'll land to-morrow or next day--good; I congratulate you. Salute
the good land for me and present my respectful compliments to
vegetables that have taste and fruit that is not sour--to the
sunshine, in fact, and to everything that ripens and sweetens in
its glow.

And you're now (when this reaches you) fixing up your home--your
_own_ home, dear Kitty. Bless your dear life, you left a home
here--wasn't it a good and nice one?--left it very lonely for the
man who has loved you twenty-four years and been made happy by your
presence. But he'll love you twenty-five more and on and
on--always. So you haven't lost that--nor can you. And it's very
fit and right that you should build your own nest; that adds
another happy home, you see. And I'm very sure it will be very
happy always. Whatever I can do to make it so, now or ever, you
have only to say. But--your mother took your photograph with her
and got it out of the bag and put it on the bureau as soon as she
went to her room--a photograph taken when you were a little girl.

Hodson[18] came up to see me to-day and with tears of gratitude in
his voice told me of the present that you and Chud had made him. He
is very genuinely pleased. As for the rest, life goes on as usual.

I laugh as I think of all your new aunts and cousins looking you
over and wondering if you'll fit, and then saying to one another as
they go to bed: "She is lovely--isn't she?" I could tell 'em a
thing or two if I had a whack at 'em.

And you'll soon have all your pretty things in place in your pretty
home, and a lot more that I haven't seen. I'll see 'em all before
many years--and you, too! Tell me, did Chud get you a dinner book?
Keep your record of things: you'll enjoy it in later years. And
you'll have a nice time this autumn--your new kinsfolk, your new
friends and old and Boston and Cambridge. If