As I have told you before, I could do very nicely without Sandy.
Wednesday.
Yesterday being a wonderful sunny day, Betsy and I turned our backs upon
duty and motored to the very fancy home of some friends of hers, where
we had tea in an Italian garden. Punch and Sadie Kate had been SUCH good
children all day that at the last moment we telephoned for permission to
include them, too.
"Yes, indeed, do bring the little dears," was the enthusiastic response.
But the choice of Punch and Sadie Kate was a mistake. We ought to have
taken Mamie Prout, who has demonstrated her ability to sit. I shall
spare you the details of our visit; the climax was reached when Punch
went goldfishing in the bottom of the swimming pool. Our host pulled him
out by an agitated leg, and the child returned to the asylum swathed in
that gentleman's rose-colored bathrobe.
What do you think? Dr. Robin MacRae, in a contrite mood for having been
so intensely disagreeable yesterday, has just invited Betsy and me
to take supper in his olive-green house next Sunday evening at seven
o'clock in order to look at some microscopic slides. The entertainment,
I believe, is to consist of a scarlet-fever culture, some alcoholic
tissue, and a tubercular gland. These social attentions bore him
excessively; but he realizes that if he is to have free scope in
applying his theories to the institution he must be a little polite to
its superintendent.
I have just read this letter over, and I must admit that it skips
lightly from topic to topic. But though it may not contain news of any
great moment, I trust you will realize that its writing has consumed
every vacant minute during the last three days. I am,
Most fully occupied,
SALLIE McBRIDE.
P.S. A blessed woman came this morning and said she would take a child
for the summer--one of the sickest, weakest, neediest babies I could
give her. She had just lost her husband, and wanted something HARD to
do. Isn't that really very touching?
Saturday afternoon.
Dear Judy and Jervis:
Brother Jimmie (we are very alliterative!), spurred on by sundry begging
letters from me, has at last sent us a present; but he picked it out
himself.
WE HAVE A MONKEY! His name is Java. The children no longer hear the
school bell ring. On the day the creature came, this entire institution
formed in line and filed past and shook his paw. Poor Sing's nose is out
of joint. I have to PAY to have him washed.
Sadie Kate is developing into my private secretary. I have her answer
the thank-you letters for the institution, and her literary style is
making a hit among our benefactors. She invariably calls out a second
gift. I had hitherto believed that the Kilcoyne family sprang from
the wild west of Ireland, but I begin to suspect that their source was
nearer Blarney Castle. You can see from the inclosed copy of the letter
she sent to Jimmie what a persuasive pen the young person has. I
trust that in this case at least, it will not bear the fruit that she
suggests.