my head. The rush of fresh air has made me sleepy. It's
half-past nine, and I bid you good night.

S.

P.S. Gordon Hallock has evaporated into thin air. Not a word for three
weeks; no candy or stuffed animals or tokimentoes of any description.
What on earth do you suppose has become of that attentive young man?

July 13.

Dearest Judy:

Hark to the glad tidings!

This being the thirty-first day of Punch's month, I telephoned to his
two patronesses, as nominated in the bond, to arrange for his return. I
was met by an indignant refusal. Give up their sweet little volcano
just as they are getting it trained not to belch forth fire? They are
outraged that I can make such an ungrateful request. Punch has accepted
their invitation to spend the summer.

The dressmaking is still going on. You should hear the machines whir
and the tongues clatter in the sewing room. Our most cowed, apathetic,
spiritless little orphan cheers up and takes an interest in life when
she hears that she is to possess three perfectly private dresses of her
own, and each a different color, chosen by herself. And you should see
how it encourages their sewing ability. Even the little ten-year-olds
are bursting into seamstresses. I wish I could devise an equally
effective way to make them take an interest in cooking. But our
kitchen is extremely uneducative. You know how hampering it is to one's
enthusiasm to have to prepare a bushel of potatoes at once.

I think you've heard me mention the fact that I should like to divide up
my kiddies into ten nice little families, with a nice comfortable house
mother over each? If we just had ten picturesque cottages to put them
in, with flowers in the front yard and rabbits and kittens and
puppies and chickens in the back, we should be a perfectly presentable
institution, and wouldn't be ashamed to have these charity experts come
visiting us.

Thursday.

I started this letter three days ago, was interrupted to talk to a
potential philanthropist (fifty tickets to the circus), and have not had
time to pick up my pen since. Betsy has been in Philadelphia for three
days, being a bridesmaid for a miserable cousin. I hope that no more of
her family are thinking of getting married, for it's most upsetting to
the J. G. H.

While there, she investigated a family who had applied for a child. Of
course we haven't a proper investigating plant, but once in a while,
when a family drops right into our arms, we d