quilts. And
the windows are wide open in the babies' dormitory. Those poor little
tots are going to enjoy the perfectly new sensation of being able to
breathe at night.

There are a million things I want to grumble about, but it's half-past
ten, and Jane says I MUST go to bed.

Yours in command,

SALLIE McBRIDE.

P.S. Before turning in, I tiptoed through the corridor to make sure that
all was right, and what do you think I found? Miss Snaith softly closing
the windows in the babies' dormitory! Just as soon as I can find
a suitable position for her in an old ladies' home, I am going to
discharge that woman.

Jane takes the pen from my hand.

Good night.

THE JOHN GRIER HOME,

February 20.

Dear Judy:

Dr. Robin MacRae called this afternoon to make the acquaintance of the
new superintendent. Please invite him to dinner upon the occasion of his
next visit to New York, and see for yourself what your husband has done.
Jervis grossly misrepresented the facts when he led me to believe
that one of the chief advantages of my position would be the daily
intercourse with a man of Dr. MacRae's polish and brilliancy and
scholarliness and charm.

He is tall and thinnish, with sandy hair and cold gray eyes. During the
hour he spent in my society (and I was very sprightly) no shadow of a
smile so much as lightened the straight line of his mouth. Can a shadow
lighten? Maybe not; but, anyway, what IS the matter with the man? Has he
committed some remorseful crime, or is his taciturnity due merely to his
natural Scotchness? He's as companionable as a granite tombstone!

Incidentally, our doctor didn't like me any more than I liked him. He
thinks I'm frivolous and inconsequential, and totally unfitted for this
position of trust. I dare say Jervis has had a letter from him by now
asking to have me removed.

In the matter of conversation we didn't hit it off in the least. He
discussed broadly and philosophically the evils of institutional care
for dependent children, while I lightly deplored the unbecoming coiffure
that prevails among our girls.

To prove my point, I had in Sadie Kate, my special errand orphan. Her
hair is strained back as tightly as though it had been done with a
monkey wrench, and is braided behind into two wiry little pigtails.
Decidedly, orphans' ears need to be softened. But Dr. Robin MacRae
doesn't give a hang whether their ears are becoming or not; what he
cares about is their stomachs. We also