o have.

Mr. Weaver has painted his barn and his two silos a bright pumpkin
yellow--a very ugly colour, but he says it will wear.

The Brewers have company this week; Mrs. Brewer's sister and two nieces
from Ohio.

One of our Rhode Island Reds only brought off three chicks out of
fifteen eggs. We can't imagine what was the trouble. Rhode island
Reds, in my opinion, are a very inferior breed. I prefer Buff
Orpingtons.

The new clerk in the post office at Bonnyrigg Four Corners drank every
drop of Jamaica ginger they had in stock--seven dollars' worth--before
he was discovered.

Old Ira Hatch has rheumatism and can't work any more; he never saved
his money when he was earning good wages, so now he has to live on the
town.

There's to be an ice-cream social at the schoolhouse next Saturday
evening. Come and bring your families.

I have a new hat that I bought for twenty-five cents at the post
office. This is my latest portrait, on my way to rake the hay.

It's getting too dark to see; anyway, the news is all used up.

Good night,
Judy

Friday

Good morning! Here is some news! What do you think? You'd never,
never, never guess who's coming to Lock Willow. A letter to Mrs.
Semple from Mr. Pendleton. He's motoring through the Berkshires, and
is tired and wants to rest on a nice quiet farm--if he climbs out at
her doorstep some night will she have a room ready for him? Maybe
he'll stay one week, or maybe two, or maybe three; he'll see how
restful it is when he gets here.

Such a flutter as we are in! The whole house is being cleaned and all
the curtains washed. I am driving to the Corners this morning to get
some new oilcloth for the entry, and two cans of brown floor paint for
the hall and back stairs. Mrs. Dowd is engaged to come tomorrow to
wash the windows (in the exigency of the moment, we waive our
suspicions in regard to the piglet). You might think, from this account
of our activities, that the house was not already immaculate; but I
assure you it was! Whatever Mrs. Semple's limitations, she is a
HOUSEKEEPER.

But isn't it just like a man, Daddy? He doesn't give the remotest hint
as to whether he will land on the doorstep today, or two weeks from
today. We shall live in a perpetual breathlessness until he comes--and
if he doesn't hurry, the cleaning ma