. We pretend for a
whole day to be some characters in fiction, Dickens, Thackeray,
Barrie, anyone we happen to think of, and then we do the things
those persons might have done. For instance, when we were slumming,
I was the Marchioness and Edwin was Dick Swiveller. That was
perhaps the best day of all. When we went down to the Thames
embankment, Edwin suddenly turned into Rogue Riderhood and I was
Lizzie Hexam.

Edwin did not think much of me as Becky Sharp when we went to the
Opera nor did I think his Rawdon Crawley very convincing. His Peter
Pan was splendid the afternoon we spent in Kensington Gardens, and
he thought my Wendy was so perfect he tried to make me give him a
"thimble" right there before all the nurse maids.

We are going home in a few days now. We are to meet Mother at
Liverpool and sail from there. I do wish Mother could have done the
things we have done. She would have enjoyed it so much. She laughed
until she cried when I proposed her going with us. She said she
loved Edwin too much and felt that he loved her too much to put his
affection to such a test.

One of the very best things about being Mrs. Edwin Green is that
Mother so highly approves of Edwin.

In a few weeks now we will be settled in our little Orchard Home. I
hate to leave London but I long for the little home. I am a born
homemaker and I am eager to get to housekeeping in the bungalow.

Edwin expects to be very busy working on a text-book on American
Literature that he feels there is a need of. He does not have to go
back to Wellington until January and that will give us time for
lots of things in Kentucky.

When we get to Wellington, you are the first person we want to have
visit us, and I want to engage you right now.

What you tell me of Andy McLean's success at Harvard does not
astonish me. I was sure he would do well. I shall not be astonished
either when you tell me some other news about Andy. Come on now,
Nance, and 'fess up.

Good-bye.--Edwin sends his kindest regards to you and says he, too,
is counting on that visit from you in January.

Yours always,

MOLLY.

* * * * *

Mrs. Sarah Carmichael Clay to Mrs. Mildred Carmichael Brown.

Dear Milly:

For a woman who is noted through the w