a hundred
human beings lie in my hands, to say nothing of their three or four
hundred children and thousand grandchildren. The thing's geometrically
progressive. It's awful. Who am I to undertake this job? Look, oh, look
for another superintendent!

Jane says dinner's ready. Having eaten two of your institution meals,
the thought of another doesn't excite me.

LATER.

The staff had mutton hash and spinach, with tapioca pudding for dessert.
What the children had I hate to consider.

I started to tell you about my first official speech at breakfast this
morning. It dealt with all the wonderful new changes that are to come to
the John Grier Home through the generosity of Mr. Jervis Pendleton,
the president of our board of trustees, and of Mrs. Pendleton, the dear
"Aunt Judy" of every little boy and girl here.

Please don't object to my featuring the Pendleton family so prominently.
I did it for political reasons. As the entire working staff of the
institution was present, I thought it a good opportunity to emphasize
the fact that all of these upsetting, innovations come straight from
headquarters, and not out of my excitable brain.

The children stopped eating and stared. The conspicuous color of my
hair and the frivolous tilt of my nose are evidently new attributes in a
superintendent. My colleagues also showed plainly that they consider me
too young and too inexperienced to be set in authority. I haven't seen
Jervis's wonderful Scotch doctor yet, but I assure you that he will have
to be VERY wonderful to make up for the rest of these people, especially
the kindergarten teacher. Miss Snaith and I clashed early on the subject
of fresh air; but I intend to get rid of this dreadful institution
smell, if I freeze every child into a little ice statue.

This being a sunny, sparkling, snowy afternoon, I ordered that dungeon
of a playroom closed and the children out of doors.

"She's chasin' us out," I heard one small urchin grumbling as he
struggled into a two-years-too-small overcoat.

They simply stood about the yard, all humped in their clothes, waiting
patiently to be allowed to come back in. No running or shouting or
coasting or snowballs. Think of it! These children don't know how to
play.

STILL LATER.

I have already begun the congenial task of spending your money. I bought
eleven hot-water bottles this afternoon (every one that the village drug
store contained) likewise some woolen blankets and padded