l
warm where his little body had been. Oh, Kate, he is the dearest kid! I
bought him a funny little jumping jack to-day. You pull a string and a
man's neck goes away out and I can just see Billy's eyes and hear his
funny laugh when he first sees him.

_Nan_.

V

_Dear Kate_:

I got a lot to tell you cause things have shaken up a bit. Do you
remember that little English woman who had a baby in the hospital next
to Billy? Well, I went out to see her one Sunday. It was such a nice,
warm spring day, just seemed as though I had to do something different,
and the greatest shock I could give my system was to leave the pavements
of New York for a time. I dressed Billy in a blue velvet coat I bought
at Macy's, and he had on a blue hat over his little red curls, and his
shoes had dark blue tassels on the front of them, and he looked cunning
enough to eat. He was so proud of his tassels that he showed them to
everybody in the street car and in the train. It took us almost two
hours to get out there, and the people met us with a horse and buggy
and drove us to their house. Why, Kate, I didn't know there was such
places! The house is on a side hill with great trees around it, and in
the front of it is a little lake with ducks and geese swimming on it.
They had a great big stable opening on to a pasture where there was
calves and cows and horses and pigs. I think I stood half an hour
looking at the pigs. It is funny, but I always thought a pig a sort of a
ham hanging up in the window of a delicatessen, instead of being a live,
friendly animal that will come when you call it. There were a lot of
chickens, white leghorns, I think the woman called them, and they looked
friendly and home-like wandering around the place talking and singing to
themselves like a bunch of happy women. Mrs. Smith let me feed them. She
gave me a milk pan full of corn and told me to hit on its edge with a
spoon, and they came flocking from every direction, some half flying,
half running, as if they were afraid they would miss the party. They
were so tame that I had to hold the pan up high to keep some of the
sassy roosters from climbing into it. Mrs. Smith knows them all and can
tell if one is missing, though they all look alike to me. She says she
hates to kill them cause it seems like eating some of the family. Her
husband laughed and said, "I will tell you the tragedy of the wrong
hen." He said, "You know once a week we have chicken pot pie, a