S. McB.

Dear Judy:

I am sure I haven't an idea whether or not the doctor and I have made up

our differences. I sent him a polite note of apology, which he received

in abysmal silence. He didn't come near us until this afternoon, and

he hasn't by the blink of an eyelash referred to our unfortunate

contretemps. We talked exclusively about an ichthyol salve that will

remove eczema from a baby's scalp; then, Sadie Kate being present, the

conversation turned to cats. It seems that the doctor's Maltese cat has

four kittens, and Sadie Kate will not be silenced until she has

seen them. Before I knew what was happening I found myself making an

engagement to take her to see those miserable kittens at four o'clock

tomorrow afternoon.

Whereupon the doctor, with an indifferently polite bow, took himself

off. And that apparently is the end.

Your Sunday note arrives, and I am delighted to hear that you have taken

the house. It will be beautiful having you for a neighbor for so long.

Our improvements ought to march along, with you and the president at

our elbow. But it does seem as though, you ought to get out here before

August 7. Are you sure that city air is good for you just now? I have

never known so devoted a wife.

My respects to the president.

S. McB.

July 22.

Dear Judy:

Please listen to this!

At four o'clock I took Sadie Kate to the doctor's house to look at

those cats. But Freddy Howland just twenty minutes before had fallen

downstairs, so the doctor was at the Howland house occupying himself

with Freddy's collarbone. He had left word for us to sit down and wait,

that he would be back shortly.

Mrs. McGurk ushered us into the library; and then, not to leave us

alone, came in herself on a pretense of polishing the brass. I don't

know what she thought we'd do! Run off with the pelican perhaps.

I settled down to an article about the Chinese situation in the Century,

and Sadie Kate roamed about at large examining everything she found,

like a curious little mongoose.

She commenced with his stuffed flamingo and wanted to know what made

it so tall and what made it so red. Did it always eat frogs, and had it

hurt its other foot? She ticks off questions with the steady persistency

of an eight-day clock.

I buried myself in my article and left Mrs. McGurk to deal with Sadie.

Finally, after she had worked half-way around the room, she came to a

portrait of a little girl occupying a leather frame in the center of the

doctor's writing desk--a child with a queer elf-like beauty, resembling

very strangely our little Allegra. This photograph might have been a

portrait of Allegra grown five years older. I had noticed the picture

the night we took supper with the doctor, and had meant to ask which of

his little patients she was. Happily I didn't!




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