scended, the only passenger, at our insignificant
station in the pitch darkness and RAIN, without an umbrella, and wearing
that precious new hat. No Turnfelt to meet me; not even a station hack.
To be sure, I hadn't telegraphed the exact time of my arrival, but,
still, I did feel rather neglected. I had sort of vaguely expected all
ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN to be drawn up by the platform, scattering
flowers and singing songs of welcome. Just as I was telling the station
man that I would watch his telegraph instrument while he ran across
to the corner saloon and telephoned for a vehicle, there came whirling
around the corner two big searchlights aimed straight at me. They
stopped nine inches before running me down, and I heard Sandy's voice
saying:

"Weel, weel, Miss Sallie McBride! I'm thinking it's ower time you came
back to tak' the bit bairns off my hands."

That man had come three times to meet me on the off chance of the
train's getting in some time. He tucked me and my new hat and bags and
books and chocolates all in under his waterproof flap, and we splashed
off. Really, I felt as if I was getting back home again, and quite sad
at the thought of ever having to leave. Mentally, you see, I had already
resigned and packed and gone. The mere idea that you are not in a place
for the rest of your life gives you an awfully unstable feeling. That's
why trial marriages would never work. You've got to feel you're in a
thing irrevocably and forever in order to buckle down and really put
your whole mind into making it a success.

It's astounding how much news can accrue in four days. Sandy just
couldn't talk fast enough to tell me everything I wanted to hear.
Among other items, I learned that Sadie Kate had spent two days in the
infirmary, her malady being, according to the doctor's diagnosis, half a
jar of gooseberry jam and Heaven knows how many doughnuts. Her work had
been changed during my absence to dishwashing in the officers' pantry,
and the juxtaposition of so many exotic luxuries was too much for her
fragile virtue.

Also, our colored cook Sallie and our colored useful man Noah have
entered upon a war of extermination. The original trouble was over a
little matter of kindling, augmented by a pail of hot water that Sallie
threw out of the window with, for a woman, unusual accuracy of aim. You
can see what a rare character the head of an orphan asylum must
have. She has to combine the qualities of a baby nurse and