floor? I have removed as much of its greenness as possible, and
fitted it up as the doctor's laboratory. It contains scales and
drugs and, most professional touch of all, a dentist's chair and
one of those sweet grinding machines. (Bought them second-
hand from Doctor Brice in the village, who is putting in, for the
gratification of his own patients, white enamel and nickel-
plate.) That drilling machine is looked upon as an infernal
engine, and I as an infernal monster for instituting it. But
every little victim who is discharged FILLED may come to my room
every day for a week and receive two pieces of chocolate. Though
our children are not conspicuously brave, they are, we discover,
fighters. Young Thomas Kehoe nearly bit the doctor's thumb in
two after kicking over a tableful of instruments. It requires
physical strength as well as skill to be dental adviser to the J.
G. H.
. . . . . . . . . .

Interrupted here to show a benevolent lady over the
institution. She asked fifty irrelevant questions, took up an
hour of my time, then finally wiped away a tear and left a dollar
for my "poor little charges."

So far, my poor little charges are not enthusiastic about
these new reforms. They don't care much for the sudden draft of
fresh air that has blown in upon them, or the deluge of water. I
am shoving in two baths a week, and as soon as we collect tubs
enough and a few extra faucets, they are going to get SEVEN.

But at least I have started one most popular reform. Our
daily bill of fare has been increased, a change deplored by the