saw the first night here that neither I nor any future occupant
could be happy with Mrs. Lippett's electric plush. You see, I am
planning to make my successor contented and willing to stay.

Betsy Kindred assisted in the rehabilitation of the Lippett's
chamber of horrors, and between us we have created a symphony in
dull blue and gold. Really and truly, it's one of the loveliest
rooms you've ever seen. The sight of it will be an artistic
education to any orphan. New paper on the wall, new rugs on the
floor (my own prized Persians expressed from Worcester by an
expostulating family). New casement curtains at my three
windows, revealing a wide and charming view, hitherto hidden by
Nottingham lace. A new big table, some lamps and books and a
picture or so, and a real open fire. She had closed the
fireplace because it let in air.

I never realized what a difference artistic surroundings make
in the peace of one's soul. I sat last night and watched my fire
throw nice highlights on my new old fender, and purred with
contentment. And I assure you it's the first purr that has come
from this cat since she entered the gates of the John Grier Home.

But the refurnishing of the superintendent's parlor is the
slightest of our needs. The children's private apartments demand
so much basic attention that I can't decide where to begin. That
dark north playroom is a shocking scandal, but no more shocking
than our hideous dining room or our unventilated dormitories or
our tubless lavatories.

If the institution is very saving, do you think it can ever