will make a fine woman. She has had (it was my fault, not hers)
the disadvantage of being brought up, or rather brought down,
by having every possible want and whim gratified. Out of kindness
for herself and her future husband, if she should have one, I want
her to learn a little about earning a living. She is nearly nineteen,
and I told her if she would try the bookshop job for a while I would
take her to Europe for a year afterward.

As I explained to you, I want her to think she is really earning
her way. Of course I don't want the routine to be too hard for her,
but I do want her to get some idea of what it means to face life
on one's own. If you will pay her ten dollars a week as a beginner,
and deduct her board from that, I will pay you twenty dollars
a week, privately, for your responsibility in caring for her
and keeping your and Mrs. Mifflin's friendly eyes on her.
I'm coming round to the Corn Cob meeting to-morrow night, and we can
make the final arrangements.

Luckily, she is very fond of books, and I really think she
is looking forward to the adventure with much anticipation.
I overheard her saying to one of her friends yesterday that she
was going to do some "literary work" this winter. That's the kind
of nonsense I want her to outgrow. When I hear her say that she's
got a job in a bookstore, I'll know she's cured.

Cordially yours,
GEORGE CHAPMAN.


"Well?" said Roger, as Mrs. Mifflin made no comment. "Don't you