wing Irisher and Irisher every day, but, true to her
christening, protesting loudly against every detail of life.

Her two little black braids point in opposite directions; her little
monkey face is all screwed up with mischief; she is as active as a
terrier, and you have to keep her busy every moment. Her record of
badnesses occupies pages in the Doomsday Book. The last item reads:

"For stumping Maggie Geer to get a doorknob into her mouth--punishment,
the afternoon spent in bed, and crackers for supper."

It seems that Maggie Geer, fitted with a mouth of unusual stretching
capacity, got the doorknob in, but couldn't get it out. The doctor
was called, and cannily solved the problem with a buttered shoe-horn.
"Muckle-mouthed Meg," he has dubbed the patient ever since.

You can understand that my thoughts are anxiously occupied in filling
every crevice of Sadie Kate's existence.

There are a million subjects that I ought to consult with the president
about. I think it was very unkind of you and him to saddle me with your
orphan asylum and run off South to play. It would serve you right if I
did everything wrong. While you are traveling about in private cars, and
strolling in the moonlight on palm beaches, please think of me in the
drizzle of a New York March, taking care of 113 babies that by rights
are yours--and be grateful.

I remain (for a limited time),

S. McBRIDE.

SUP'T JOHN GRIER HOME.

Dear Enemy:

I am sending herewith (under separate cover) Sammy Speir, who got
mislaid when you paid your morning visit. Miss Snaith brought him to
light after you had gone. Please scrutinize his thumb. I never saw a
felon, but I have diagnosed it as such. Yours truly, S. McBRIDE.

SUP'T JOHN GRIER HOME,

March 6.

Dear Judy:

I don't know yet whether the children are going to love me or not, but
they DO love my dog. No creature so popular as Singapore ever entered
these gates. Every afternoon three boys who have been perfect in
deportment are allowed to brush and comb him, while three other good
boys may serve him with food and drink. But every Saturday morning the
climax of the week is reached, when three superlatively good boys give
him a nice lathery bath with hot water and flea soap. The privilege of
serving as Singapore's valet is going to be the only incentive I shall
need for maintaining discipline.

But isn't it pathetically unnatural for these youngsters to be living
in the country and never own