posed family can offer better advantages
than we can give. I mean than we are going to be able to give in the
course of a few months, when we get ourselves made over into a model
institution. I shall have to confess that at present we are still pretty
bad.

But anyway, I am very CHOOSEY in regard to homes, and I reject
three-fourths of those that offer.

LATER.

Gordon has made honorable amends to my children. His bag of peanuts is
here, made of burlap and three feet high.

Do you remember the dessert of peanuts and maple sugar they used to
give us at college? We turned up our noses, but ate. I am instituting it
here, and I assure you we don't turn up our noses. It is a pleasure to
feed children who have graduated from a course of Mrs. Lippett; they are
pathetically grateful for small blessings.

You can't complain that this letter is too short.

Yours,

On the verge of writer's cramp,

S. McB.

THE JOHN GRIER HOME,

Off and on, all day Friday.

Dear Judy:

You will be interested to hear that I have encountered another
enemy--the doctor's housekeeper. I had talked to the creature several
times over the telephone, and had noted that her voice was not
distinguished by the soft, low accents that mark the caste of "Vere de
Vere"; but now I have seen her. This morning, while returning from the
village, I made a slight detour, and passed our doctor's house. Sandy
is evidently the result of environment--olive green, with a mansard roof
and the shades pulled down. You would think he had just been holding a
funeral.

I don't wonder that the amenities of life have somewhat escaped the
poor man. After studying the outside of his house, I was filled with
curiosity to see if the inside matched.

Having sneezed five times before breakfast this morning, I decided to
go in and consult him professionally. To be sure, he is a children's
specialist, but sneezes are common to all ages. So I boldly marched up
the steps and rang the bell.

Hark! What sound is that that breaks upon our revelry? The Hon. Cy's
voice, as I live, approaching up the stairs. I've letters to write, and
I can't be tormented by his blether, so I am rushing Jane to the door
with orders to look him firmly in the eye and tell him I am out.

. . . . . . . .

On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined. He's gone.

But those eight stars represent eight agonizing minutes spent in the
dark of my library closet. The Hon. Cy received Jane's communica