here she can send her four or five year olds free of
charge and know that they are busy and happy for several hours a day.

I know, by long experience with younger kindergartners and social
workers in after years, that this kind of "visiting" presents many
perplexities to persons of a certain temperament, but I never entered
any house where I felt the least sensation of being out of place. I
don't think this flexibility is a gift of especially high order, nor
that it would be equally valuable in all walks of life, but it is of
great service in this sort of work. Whether I sat in a stuffed chair or
on a nailkeg or an inverted washtub it was always equally agreeable to
me. The "getting into relation," perfectly, and without the loss of a
moment, gave me a sense of mental and spiritual exhilaration. I never
had to adapt myself elaborately to a strange situation in order to be in
sympathy. I never said to myself: "But for God's grace I might be the
woman on that cot; unloved, uncared for, with a new-born child at my
side and a dozen men drinking in the saloon just on the other side of
the wall * * * or that mother of five--convivial, dishonest, unfaithful
* * * or that timid, frail, little creature struggling to support a
paralytic husband." I never had to give myself logical reasons for being
where I was, nor wonder what I should say; my one idea was to keep the
situation simple and free from embarrassment to any one; to be as
completely a part of it as if I had been born there; to be helpful
without being intrusive; to show no surprise whatever happened; above
all to be cheerful, strong and bracing, not weakly sentimental.

As the day of opening approached an unexpected and valuable aide-de-camp
appeared on the scene. An American girl of twelve or thirteen slipped in
the front door one day when I was practicing children's songs,
whereupon the following colloquy ensued.

"What's this place goin' to be?"

"A kindergarten."

"What's that?"

Explanation suited to the questioner, followed.

"Can I come in afternoons, on my way home from school and see what you
do?"

"Certainly."

"Can I stay now and help round?"

"Yes indeed, I should be delighted."

"What's the bird for?"

"What are all birds for?" I answered, just to puzzle her.

"I dunno. What's the plants and flowers for?"

"What are all flowers for?" I demanded again.

"But I thought 'twas a school."

"It is, but it's a new kind."

"Where's the book