The fire occurred early Saturday morning, and Sunday the ministers in

all the churches called for volunteers to accept in their houses one or

two children as guests for three weeks, until the asylum could get its

plant into working order again.

It was inspiring to see the response. Every child was disposed of within

half an hour. And consider what that means for the future: every one of

those families is going to take a personal interest in this asylum from

now on. Also, consider what it means for the children. They are finding

out how a real family lives, and this is the first time that dozens of

them have ever crossed the threshold of a private house.

As for more permanent plans to take us through the winter, listen to all

this. The country club has a caddies' clubhouse which they don't use in

winter and which they have politely put at our disposal. It joins our

land on the back, and we are fitting it up for fourteen children, with

Miss Matthews in charge. Our dining room and kitchen still being intact,

they will come here for meals and school, returning home at night all

the better for half a mile walk. "The Pavilion on the Links" we are

calling it.

Then that nice motherly Mrs. Wilson, next door to the doctor's,--she who

has been so efficient with our little Loretta,--has agreed to take in

five more at four dollars a week each. I am leaving with her some of the

most promising older girls who have shown housekeeping instincts, and

would like to learn cooking on a decently small scale. Mrs. Wilson and

her husband are such a wonderful couple, thrifty and industrious and

simple and loving, I think it would do the girls good to observe them. A

training class in wifehood!

I told you about the Knowltop people on the east of us, who took in

forty-seven youngsters the night of the fire, and how their entire house

party turned themselves into emergency nursemaids? We relieved them of

thirty-six the next day, but they still have eleven. Did I ever call Mr.

Knowltop a crusty old curmudgeon? I take it back. I beg his pardon.

He's a sweet lamb. Now, in the time of our need, what do you think that

blessed man has done? He has fitted up an empty tenant house on the

estate for our babies, has himself engaged an English trained baby nurse

to take charge, and furnishes them with the superior milk from his own

model dairy. He says he has been wondering for years what to do with

that milk. He can't afford to sell it, because he loses four cents on

every quart!




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