Dear Enemy

There is no doubt about it, Gordon is the most presentable man that ever

breathed. He is so good looking and easy and gracious and witty, and his

manners are so impeccable--Oh, he would make a wonderfully decorative

husband! But after all, I suppose you do live with a husband. You don't

just show him off at dinners and teas.

He was exceptionally nice tonight. Betsy and Mrs. Livermore both fell in

love with him--and I just a trifle. He entertained us with a speech in

his best public manner, apropos of Java's welfare. We have been having

a dreadful time finding a sleeping place for that monkey, and Gordon

proved with incontestable logic that, since he was presented to us by

Jimmie, and Jimmie is Percy's friend, he should sleep with Percy. Gordon

is a natural talker, and an audience affects him like champagne. He can

argue with as much emotional earnestness on the subject of a monkey as

on the greatest hero that ever bled for his country.

I felt tears coming to my eyes when he described Java's loneliness as he

watched out the night in our furnace cellar, and pictured his brothers

at play in the far-off tropical jungle.

A man who can talk like that has a future before him. I haven't a doubt

but that I shall be voting for him for President in another twenty

years.

We all had a beautiful time, and entirely forgot--for a space of three

hours--that 107 orphans slumbered about us. Much as I love the little

dears, it is pleasant to get away from them once in a while.

My guests left at ten, and it must be midnight by now. (This is the

eighth day, and my clock has stopped again; Jane forgets to wind it as

regularly as Friday comes around.) However, I know it's late; and as a

woman, it's my duty to try for beauty sleep, especially with an eligible

young suitor at hand.

I'll finish tomorrow. Good night.

Saturday.

Gordon spent this morning playing with my asylum and planning some

intelligent presents to be sent later. He thinks that three neatly

painted totem poles would add to the attractiveness of our Indian camps.

He is also going to make us a present of three dozen pink rompers for

the babies. Pink is a color that is very popular with the superintendent

of this asylum, who is deadly tired of blue! Our generous friend is

likewise amusing himself with the idea of a couple of donkeys and

saddles and a little red cart. Isn't it nice that Gordon's father

provided for him so amply, and that he is such a charitably inclined

young man? He is at present lunching with Percy at the hotel, and, I

trust, imbibing fresh ideas in the field of philanthropy.