ote by Sadie Kate, as it seems impossible to reach
you by telephone. Is the person who calls herself Mrs. McGur-rk and
hangs up in the middle of a sentence your housekeeper? If she answers
the telephone often, I don't see how your patients have any patience
left.

As you did not come this morning, per agreement, and the painters did
come, I was fain to choose a cheerful corn color to be placed upon the
walls of your new laboratory room. I trust there is nothing unhygienic
about corn color.

Also, if you can spare a moment this afternoon, kindly motor yourself
to Dr. Brice's on Water Street and look at the dentist's chair and
appurtenances which are to be had at half-price. If all of the pleasant
paraphernalia of his profession were here,--in a corner of your
laboratory,--Dr. Brice could finish his 111 new patients with much more
despatch than if we had to transport them separately to Water Street.
Don't you think that's a useful idea? It came to me in the middle of
the night, but as I never happened to buy a dentist's chair before, I'd
appreciate some professional advice. Yours truly,

S. McBRIDE.

THE JOHN GRIER HOME,

March 1.

Dear Judy:

Do stop sending me telegrams!

Of course I know that you want to know everything that is happening, and
I would send a daily bulletin, but I truly don't find a minute. I am so
tired when night comes that if it weren't for Jane's strict discipline,
I should go to bed with my clothes on.

Later, when we slip a little more into routine, and I can be sure that
my assistants are all running off their respective jobs, I shall be the
regularest correspondent you ever had.

It was five days ago, wasn't it, that I wrote? Things have been
happening in those five days. The MacRae and I have mapped out a plan of
campaign, and are stirring up this place to its sluggish depths. I like
him less and less, but we have declared a sort of working truce. And the
man IS a worker. I always thought I had sufficient energy myself, but
when an improvement is to be introduced, I toil along panting in his
wake. He is as stubborn and tenacious and bull-doggish as a Scotchman
can be, but he does understand babies; that is, he understands their
physiological aspects. He hasn't any more feeling for them personally
than for so many frogs that he might happen to be dissecting.

Do you remember Jervis's holding forth one evening for an hour or so
about our doctor's beautiful humanitarian ideals? C'E