You would hardly credit some of the homes that we have investigated. We
found a very prosperous country family the other day, who lived huddled
together in three rooms in order to keep the rest of their handsome
house clean. The fourteen-year girl they wished to adopt, by way of a
cheap servant, was to sleep in the same tiny room with their own three
children. Their kitchen-dining-parlor apartment was more cluttered up
and unaired than any city tenement I ever saw, and the thermometer at
eighty-four. One could scarcely say they were living there; they were
rather COOKING. You may be sure they got no girl from us!
I have made one invariable rule--every other is flexible. No child is
to be placed out unless the proposed 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.