Your roses and your letter cheered me for an entire morning, and it's
the first time I've approached cheerfulness since the fourteenth of
February, when I waved good-by to Worcester.

Words can't tell you how monotonously oppressive the daily round of
institution life gets to be. The only glimmer in the whole dull affair
is the fact that Betsy Kindred spends four days a week with us. Betsy
and I were in college together, and we do occasionally find something
funny to laugh about.

Yesterday we were having tea in my HIDEOUS parlor when we suddenly
determined to revolt against so much unnecessary ugliness. We called in
six sturdy and destructive orphans, a step-ladder, and a bucket of hot
water, and in two hours had every vestige of that tapestry paper off
those walls. You can't imagine what fun it is ripping paper off walls.

Two paperhangers are at work this moment hanging the best that our
village affords, while a German upholsterer is on his knees measuring my
chairs for chintz slip covers that will hide every inch of their plush
upholstery.

Please don't get nervous. This doesn't mean that I'm preparing to spend
my life in the asylum. It means only that I'm preparing a cheerful
welcome for my successor. I haven't dared tell Judy how dismal I find
it, because I don't want to cloud Florida; but when she returns to New
York she will find my official resignation waiting to meet her in the
front hall.

I would write you a long letter in grateful payment for seven pages, but
two of my little dears are holding a fight under the window. I dash to
separate them.

Yours as ever,

S. McB.

THE JOHN GRIER HOME,

March 8.

My dear Judy:

I myself have bestowed a little present upon the John Grier Home--the
refurnishing of the superintendent's private parlor. I saw the first
night here that neither I nor any future occupant could be happy
with Mrs. Lippett's electric plush. You see, I am planning to make my
successor contented and willing to stay.

Betsy Kindred assisted in the rehabilitation of the Lippett's chamber
of horrors, and between us we have created a symphony in dull blue and
gold. Really and truly, it's one of the loveliest rooms you've ever
seen. The sight of it will be an artistic education to any orphan.
New paper on the wall, new rugs on the floor (my own prized Persians
expressed from Worcester by an expostulating family). New casement
curtains at my three windows, revealing a wide and charm