P.S. I am relieved on one point. Dr. MacRae does not pick out
his own clothes. He leaves all such unessential trifles to his
housekeeper, Mrs. Maggie McGurk.

Again, and irrevocably, good-by!



THE JOHN GRIER HOME,

Wednesday.
Dear Gordon:

Your roses and your letter cheered me for an entire morning, and
it's the first time I've approached cheerfulness since the
fourteenth of February, when I waved good-by to Worcester.

Words can't tell you how monotonously oppressive the daily
round of institution life gets to be. The only glimmer in the
whole dull affair is the fact that Betsy Kindred spends four days
a week with us. Betsy and I were in college together, and we do
occasionally find something funny to laugh about.

Yesterday we were having tea in my HIDEOUS parlor when we
suddenly determined to revolt against so much unnecessary
ugliness. We called in six sturdy and destructive orphans, a
step-ladder, and a bucket of hot water, and in two hours had
every vestige of that tapestry paper off those walls. You can't
imagine what fun it is ripping paper off walls.