hens to practice in, won't our children learn how
to cook! I am already looking about for ten loving house mothers to put
in charge. I think, in fact, I'll search for eleven, in order to have
one for Sandy. He's as pathetically in need of a little mothering as
any, of the chicks.

It must be pretty dispiriting to come home every night to the
ministrations of Mrs. McGur-rk.

How I do not like that woman! She has with complacent firmness told me
four different times that the dochther was ashleep and not wantin' to be
disturbed. I haven't set eyes on him yet, and I have just about finished
being polite. However, I waive judgment until tomorrow at four, when
I am to pay a short, unexciting call of half an hour. He made the
appointment himself, and if she tells me again that he is ashleep,
I shall give her a gentle push and tip her over (she's very fat and
unstable) and, planting a foot firmly on her stomach, pursue my way
tranquilly in and up. Luellen, formerly chauffeur, chambermaid, and
gardener, is now also trained nurse. I am eager to see how he looks in a
white cap and apron.

The mail has just come, with a letter from Mrs. Bretland, telling
how happy they are to have the children. She inclosed their first
photograph--all packed in a governess cart, with Clifford proudly
holding the reins, and a groom at the pony's head. How is that for three
late inmates of the John Grier Home?

It's all very inspiring when I think of their futures, but a trifle sad
when I remember their poor father, and how he worked himself to death
for those three chicks who are going to forget him. The Bretlands
will do their best to accomplish that. They are jealous of any outside
influence and want to make the babies wholly theirs. After all, I think
the natural way is best--for each family to produce its own children,
and keep them.

Friday.

I saw the doctor today. He's a pathetic sight, consisting mostly of
bandages. Somehow or other we got our misunderstandings all made up.
Isn't it dreadful the way two human beings, both endowed with fair
powers of speech, can manage to convey nothing of their psychological
processes to each other?

I haven't understood his mental attitude from the first, and he even
yet doesn't understand mine. This grim reticence that we Northern
people struggle so hard to maintain! I don't know after all but that the
excitable Southern safety valve method is the best.

But, Judy, such a dreadful thing--do yo