"You have nothing whatever to say about it," I amiably replied. "I

have decided that the two-acre field is the best plot to use for the

children's gardens, and you and the potatoes will have to give way."

Whereupon he rose in a storm of bucolic wrath, and said he'd be gol

darned if he'd have a lot of these danged city brats interfering with

his work.

I explained--very calmly for a red-haired person with Irish

forebears--that this place was run for the exclusive benefit of these

children; that the children were not here to be exploited for the

benefit of the place, a philosophy which he did not grasp, though my

fancy city language had a slightly dampening effect. I added that what

I required in a farmer was the ability and patience to instruct the

boys in gardening and simple outdoor work; that I wished a man of

large sympathies whose example would be an inspiring influence to these

children of the city streets.

Sterry, pacing about like a caged woodchuck, launched into a tirade

about silly Sunday-school notions, and, by a transition which I did not

grasp, passed to a review of the general subject of woman's suffrage.

I gathered that he is not in favor of the movement. I let him argue

himself quiet, then I handed him a check for his wages, and told him to

vacate the tenant house by twelve o'clock next Wednesday.

Sterry says he'll be danged if he will. (Excuse so many DANGEDS. It

is the creature's only adjective.) He was engaged to work for this

institution by the president of the board of trustees, and he will not

move from that house until the president of the board of trustees tells

him to go. I don't think poor Sterry realizes that since his arrival a

new president has come to the throne.

ALORS you have the story. I make no threats, but Sterry or McBride--take

your choice, dear sir.

I am also about to write to the head of the Massachusetts Agricultural

College, at Amherst, asking him to recommend a good, practical man with

a nice, efficient, cheerful wife, who will take the entire care of our

modest domain of seventeen acres, and who will be a man with the right

personality to place over our boys.

If we get the farming end of this institution into running shape, it

ought to furnish not only beans and onions for the table, but education

for our hands and brains.

I remain, sir, Yours most truly, S. McBRIDE, Superintendent of the John

Grier Home.

P.S. I think that Sterry will probably come back some night and throw

rocks through the windows. Shall I have them insured?




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