Characters neatly remodeled. S. McBride.
Sandy dropped in two nights ago to have a bit of conversation with Betsy
and me, and he was FRIVOLOUS. He made three jokes, and he sat down at
the piano and sang some old Scotch, "My luve's like a red, red rose,"
and "Come under my plaidie," and "Wha's at the window? Wha? Wha?" not in
the least educational, and then danced a few steps of the strathspey!
I sat and beamed upon my handiwork, for it's true, I've done it all
through my frivolous example and the books I've given him and the
introducing of such lightsome companions as Jimmie and Percy and Gordon
Hallock. If I have a few more months in which to work, I shall get the
man human. He has given up purple ties, and at my tactful suggestion has
adopted a suit of gray. You have no idea how it sets him off. He will
be quite distinguished looking as soon as I can make him stop carrying
bulgy things in his pockets.
Good-by; and remember that we're expecting you on Friday.
SALLIE.
P.S. Here is a picture of Allegra, taken by Mr. Witherspoon. Isn't she
a love? Her present clothes do not enhance her beauty, but in the course
of a few weeks she will move into a pink smocked frock.
Wednesday, June 24, 10 A.M. MRS. JERVIS PENDLETON.
Madam:
Your letter is at hand, stating that you cannot visit me on Friday per
promise, because your husband has business that keeps him in town. What
clishmaclaver is this! Has it come to such a pass that you can't leave
him for two days?
I did not let 113 babies interfere with my visit to you, and I see no
reason why you should let one husband interfere with your visit to me. I
shall meet the Berkshire express on Friday as agreed. S. McBRIDE.
June 30. My dear Judy:
That was a very flying visit you paid us; but for all small favors we
are grateful. I am awfully pleased that you were so delighted with the
way things are going, and I can't wait for Jervis and the architect to
get up here and really begin a fundamental ripping-up.
You know, I had the queerest feeling all the time that you were here. I
can't make it seem true that you, my dear, wonderful Judy, were actually
brought up in this institution, and know from the bitter inside what
these little tots need. Sometimes the tragedy of your childhood fills
me with an anger that makes me want to roll up my sleeves and fight the
whole world and force it into making itself over into a place more fit
for children to live in. That Scotch-Irish ancestry of mine seems to
have deposited a tremendous amount of FIGHT in my character.