And do find me some sports who are not afraid of heredity. This wanting
every child to come from one of the first families of Virginia is
getting tiresome.
Yours, as usual,
SALLIE.
Friday. My dear, dear Judy:
Such an upheaval! I've discharged the cook and the housekeeper, and in
delicate language conveyed the impression to our grammar teacher that
she needn't come back next year. But, oh, if I could only discharge the
Honorable Cy!
I must tell you what happened this morning. Our trustee, who has had a
dangerous illness, is now dangerously well again, and dropped in to
pay a neighborly call. Punch was occupying a rug on my library floor,
virtuously engaged with building blocks. I am separating him from the
other kindergarten children, and trying the Montessori method of a
private rug and no nervous distraction. I was flattering myself that it
was working well; his vocabulary of late has become almost prudish.
After half an hour's desultory visit, the Hon. Cy rose to go. As the
door closed behind him (I am at least thankful the child waited for
that), Punch raised his appealing brown eyes to mine and murmured, with
a confiding smile:
"Gee! ain't he got de hell of a mug?"
If you know a kind Christian family where I can place out a sweet little
five-year boy, please communicate at once with
S. McBRIDE,
Sup't John Grier Home.
Dear Pendletons:
I've never known anything like you two snails. You've only just reached
Washington, and I have had my suitcase packed for days, ready to spend
a rejuvenating week end CHEZ VOUS. Please hurry! I've languished in this
asylum atmosphere as long as humanely possible. I shall gasp and die if
I don't get a change.
Yours,
on the point of suffocation,
S. McB.
P.S. Drop a card to Gordon Hallock, telling him you are there. He will
be charmed to put himself and the Capitol at your disposal. I know
that Jervis doesn't like him, but Jervis ought to get over his baseless
prejudices against politicians. Who knows? I may be entering politics
myself some day.
My dear Judy:
We do receive the most amazing presents from our friends and
benefactors. Listen to this. Last week Mr. Wilton J. Leverett (I quote
from his card) ran over a broken bottle outside our gate, and came in
to visit the institution while his chauffeur was mending the tire. Betsy
showed him about. He took an intelligent interest in everything he saw,
particularly our new camps. That is an exhibit which appeals to men.
He ended by removing his coat, and playing baseball with two tribes
of Indians. After an hour and a half he suddenly looked at his watch,
begged for a glass of water, and bowed himself off.