This is to tell you that we have a placing-out agent visiting us. She is
about to dispose of four chicks, one of them Thomas Kehoe. What do you
think? Ought we to risk it? The place she has in mind for him is a farm
in a no-license portion of Connecticut, where he will work hard for
his board, and live in the farmer's family. It sounds exactly the right
thing, and we can't keep him here forever; he'll have to be turned out
some day into a world full of whisky.
I'm sorry to tear you away from that cheerful work on "Dementia Precox,"
but I'd be most obliged if you'd drop in here toward eight o'clock for a
conference with the agent.
I am, as usual,
S. McBRIDE.
June 17. My dear Judy:
Betsy has perpetrated a most unconscionable trick upon a pair of
adopting parents. They have traveled East from Ohio in their touring car
for the dual purpose of seeing the country and picking up a daughter.
They appear to be the leading citizens of their town, whose name at
the moment escapes me; but it's a very important town. It has electric
lights and gas, and Mr. Leading Citizen owns the controlling interest
in both plants. With a wave of his hand he could plunge that entire town
into darkness; but fortunately he's a kind man, and won't do anything so
harsh, not even if they fail to reelect him mayor. He lives in a brick
house with a slate roof and two towers, and has a deer and fountain and
lots of nice shade trees in the yard. (He carries its photograph in his
pocket.) They are good-natured, generous, kind-hearted, smiling people,
and a little fat; you can see what desirable parents they would make.
Well, we had exactly the daughter of their dreams, only, as they came
without giving us notice, she was dressed in a flannellet nightgown, and
her face was dirty. They looked Caroline over, and were not impressed;
but they thanked us politely, and said they would bear her in mind. They
wanted to visit the New York Orphanage before deciding. We knew well
that, if they saw that superior assemblage of children, our poor little
Caroline would never have a chance.
Then Betsy rose to the emergency. She graciously invited them to motor
over to her house for tea that afternoon and inspect one of our little
wards who would be visiting her baby niece. Mr. and Mrs. Leading Citizen
do not know many people in the East, and they haven't been receiving the
invitations that they feel are their due; so they were quite innocently
pleased at the prospect of a little social diversion. The moment they
had retired to the hotel for luncheon, Betsy called up her car, and
rushed baby Caroline over to her house. She stuffed her into baby
niece's best pink-and-white embroidered frock, borrowed a hat of Irish
lace, some pink socks and white slippers, and set her picturesquely
upon the green lawn under a spreading beech tree. A white-aproned nurse
(borrowed also from baby niece) plied her with bread and milk and gaily
colored toys. By the time prospective parents arrived, our Caroline,
full of food and contentment, greeted them with cooes of delight. From
the moment their eyes fell upon her they were ravished with desire.
Not a suspicion crossed their unobservant minds that this sweet little
rosebud was the child of the morning. And so, a few formalities having
been complied with, it really looks as though baby Caroline would live
in the Towers and grow into a leading citizen.