We are doing our best to run this institution with as few discommoding

rules as possible, but in regard to those play boxes there is one point

on which I shall have to be firm. The children may not keep in them mice

or toads or angleworms.

I can't tell you how pleased I am that Betsy's salary is to be raised,

and that we are to keep her permanently. But the Hon. Cy Wykoff

deprecates the step. He has been making inquiries, and he finds that her

people are perfectly able to take care of her without any salary.

"You don't furnish legal advice for nothing," say I to him. "Why should

she furnish her trained services for nothing?"

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"This is charitable work."

"Then work which is undertaken for your own good should be paid, but

work which is undertaken for the public good should not be paid?"

"Fiddlesticks!" says he. "She's a woman, and her family ought to support

her."

This opened up vistas of argument which I did not care to enter with the

Hon. Cy, so I asked him whether he thought it would be nicer to have

a real lawn or hay on the slope that leads to the gate. He likes to

be consulted, and I pamper him as much as possible in all unessential

details. You see, I am following Sandy's canny advice: "Trustees are

like fiddle-strings; they maunna be screwed ower tight. Humor the mon,

but gang your ain gait." Oh, the tact that this asylum is teaching me! I

should make a wonderful politician's wife.

Thursday night.

You will be interested to hear that I have temporarily placed out Punch

with two charming spinsters who have long been tottering on the brink

of a child. They finally came last week, and said they would like to try

one for a month to see what the sensation felt like.

They wanted, of course, a pretty ornament, dressed in pink and white and

descended from the Mayflower. I told them that any one could bring up

a daughter of the Mayflower to be an ornament to society, but the real

feat was to bring up a son of an Italian organ-grinder and an Irish

washerwoman. And I offered Punch. That Neapolitan heredity of his,

artistically speaking, may turn out a glorious mixture, if the right

environment comes along to choke out all the weeds.

I put it up to them as a sporting proposition, and they were game. They

have agreed to take him for one month and concentrate upon his remaking

all their years of conserved force, to the end that he may be fit for

adoption in some moral family. They both have a sense of humor and

ACCOMPLISHING characters, or I should never have dared to propose it.

And really I believe it's going to be the one way of taming our young

fire-eater. They will furnish the affection and caresses and attention

that in his whole abused little life he has never had.




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