Dear Enemy

I would write a respectable letter, but it's teatime, and I see that a

guest approaches.

ADDIO!

SALLIE.

P.S. Don't you know some one who would like to adopt a desirable baby

boy with seventeen nice new teeth?

April 20. My dear Judy:

One a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns! We've had a Good Friday

present of ten dozen, given by Mrs. De Peyster Lambert, a high church,

stained-glass-window soul whom I met at a tea a few days ago. (Who

says now that teas are a silly waste of time?) She asked me about my

"precious little waifs," and said I was doing a noble work and would be

rewarded. I saw buns in her eye, and sat down and talked to her for half

an hour.

Now I shall go and thank her in person, and tell her with a great deal

of affecting detail how much those buns were appreciated by my precious

little waifs--omitting the account of how precious little Punch threw

his bun at Miss Snaith and plastered her neatly in the eye. I think,

with encouragement, Mrs. De Peyster Lambert can be developed into a

cheerful giver.

Oh, I'm growing into the most shocking beggar! My family don't dare

to visit me, because I demand BAKSHISH in such a brazen manner. I

threatened to remove father from my calling list unless he shipped

immediately sixty-five pairs of overalls for my prospective gardeners.

A notice from the freight office this morning asks me to remove two

packing cases consigned to them by the J. L. McBride Co. of Worcester;

so I take it that father desires to continue my acquaintance. Jimmie

hasn't sent us anything yet, and he's getting a huge salary. I write him

frequently a pathetic list of our needs.

But Gordon Hallock has learned the way to a mother's heart. I was so

pleasant about the peanuts and menagerie that now he sends a present of

some sort every few days, and I spend my entire time composing thank-you

letters that aren't exact copies of the ones I've sent before. Last week

we received a dozen big scarlet balls. The nursery is FULL of them;

you kick them before you as you walk. And yesterday there arrived a

half-bushel of frogs and ducks and fishes to float in the bathtubs.

Send, O best of trustees, the tubs in which to float them!

I am, as usual,

S. McBRIDE.

Tuesday. My dear Judy:

Spring must be lurking about somewhere; the birds are arriving from the

South. Isn't it time you followed their example?

Society note from the BIRD O' PASSAGE NEWS: