ng to be good to poor
girls who have no anchorage in London. John Storm was right: this great,
glorious, brilliant, delightful London can be very cruel to them
sometimes. It calls to them, beckons to them, smiles on them, makes them
think there must be joy in the blaze of so much light and luxury and love
by the side of so many palaces, and then----

"But perhaps the mischief lies deeper down; and though I'm not going to
cut my hair and wear a waistcoat and stand up for the equal rights of the
sexes, I feel at this moment that if I were only a man I should be the
happiest woman in the world, God bless me! Not that I am afraid of
London, not I indeed; and to show you how I long to take a header into
its turbulent tides, I hereby warn and apprize and notify you that
perhaps I may use my week's holiday to find a more congenial employment
than that of deputy White Owl at the hospital. I am not in my right place
yet, Aunt Anna, notwithstanding, so look out for revelations! 'To be or
not to be? that is the question.' Just say the word and I'll leave it to
Providence, which is always a convenient legatee, and in any case--but
wait, only wait and see what a week will bring forth!

"Greet the island for me to the inmost core of its being. The dear little
'oilan!' Now that I am so far away, I go over it in my mind's eye with
the idiotic affection of a mother who knows every inch of her baby's body
and would like to gobble it. The leaves must be down by this time, and
there can be nothing on the bare boughs but the empty nests where the
little birdies used to woo and sing. My love to them and three tremendous
kisses for yourselves!

"Glory.

"P.S.--Oh, haven't I given you the 'newses' about John Storm? There are
so many things to think about in a place like London, you see. Yes, he
has gone into a monastery--communication cut off--wires broken down by
the 'storm,' etc. Soberly, he has gone for good seemingly, and to talk of
it lightly is like picking a penny out of a blind man's hat. Of course,
it was only to be expected that a man with an upper lip like that should
come to grief with all those married old maids and elderly women of the
opposite sex. Canons to right of him, canons to left of him, canons in
front of him--but rumour says it was John himself who volleyed and
thundered. He wrote me a letter when he was on the point of going, saying
how London had shocked and disappointed him, and how he longed to escape
from it an