ays, but
never met any face to face. Percy does seem too good to be true.

Before they left, Jimmie and the doctor hunted up a lantern, and in
their evening clothes conducted Mr. Witherspoon across a plowed field to
inspect his future dwelling.

And such a Sunday as we passed! I had absolutely to forbid their
carpentering. Those men would have put in a full day, quite irrespective
of the damage done to one hundred and four little moral natures. As it
is, they have just stood and looked at those shacks and handled their
hammers, and thought about where they would drive the first nail
tomorrow morning. The more I study men, the more I realize that they are
nothing in the world but boys grown too big to be spankable.

I am awfully worried as to how to feed Mr. Witherspoon. He looks as
though he had a frightfully healthy appetite, and he looks as though he
couldn't swallow his dinner unless he had on evening clothes. I've made
Betsy send home for a trunkful of evening gowns in order to keep up our
social standing. One thing is fortunate: he takes his luncheon at the
hotel, and I hear their luncheons are very filling.

Tell Jervis I am sorry he is not with us to drive a nail for the camp.
Here comes the Hon. Cy up the path. Heaven save us!

Ever your unfortunate,

S. McB.

THE JOHN GRIER HOME,

May 8.

Dear Judy:

Our camp is finished, our energetic brother has gone, and our
twenty-four boys have passed two healthful nights in the open. The three
bark-covered shacks add a pleasant rustic touch to the grounds. They are
like those we used to have in the Adirondacks, closed on three sides
and open in the front, and one larger than the rest to allow a private
pavilion for Mr. Percy Witherspoon. An adjacent hut, less exposed to the
weather, affords extremely adequate bathing facilities, consisting of a
faucet in the wall and three watering-cans. Each camp has a bath master
who stands on a stool and sprinkles each little shiverer as he trots
under. Since our trustees WON'T give us enough bathtubs, we have to use
our wits.

The three camps have organized into three tribes of Indians, each with
a chief of its own to answer for its conduct, Mr. Witherspoon high chief
of all, and Dr. MacRae the medicine man. They dedicated their lodges
Tuesday evening with appropriate tribal ceremonies. And though they
politely invited me to attend, I decided that it was a purely masculine
affair, so I declined to go, but sent refresh