We came back Saturday night and had our dinner in the train,
at little tables with pink lamps and negro waiters. I never heard
of meals being served in trains before, and I inadvertently said so.

`Where on earth were you brought up?' said Julia to me.

`In a village,' said I meekly, to Julia.

`But didn't you ever travel?' said she to me.

`Not till I came to college, and then it was only a hundred
and sixty miles and we didn't eat,' said I to her.

She's getting quite interested in me, because I say such funny things.
I try hard not to, but they do pop out when I'm surprised--
and I'm surprised most of the time. It's a dizzying experience,
Daddy, to pass eighteen years in the John Grier Home, and then
suddenly to be plunged into the WORLD.

But I'm getting acclimated. I don't make such awful mistakes as I did;
and I don't feel uncomfortable any more with the other girls. I used
to squirm whenever people looked at me. I felt as though they saw
right through my sham new clothes to the checked ginghams underneath.
But I'm not letting the ginghams bother me any more. Sufficient unto
yesterday is the evil thereof.

I forgot to tell you about our flowers. Master Jervie gave us each
a big bunch of violets and lilies-of-the-valley. Wasn't that sweet
of him? I never used to care much for men--judging by Trustees--