anything so absurd as Leonora presiding over a missionary's
menage? Do you suppose she will entertain the heathen with skirt
dances?

It isn't any absurder, though, than me in an orphan asylum,
or you as a conservative settled matron, or Marty Keene a social
butterfly in Paris. Do you suppose she goes to embassy balls in
riding clothes, and what on earth does she do about hair? It
couldn't have grown so soon; she must wear a wig. Isn't our
class turning out some hilarious surprises?

The mail arrives. Excuse me while I read a nice fat letter
from Washington.


Not so nice; quite impertinent. Gordon can't get over the
idea that it is a joke, S. McB. in conjunction with one hundred
and thirteen orphans. But he wouldn't think it such a joke if he
could try it for a few days. He says he is going to drop off
here on his next trip North and watch the struggle. How would it
be if I left him in charge while I dashed to New York to
accomplish some shopping? Our sheets are all worn out, and we
haven't more than two hundred and eleven blankets in the house.

Singapore, sole puppy of my heart and home, sends his
respectful love.
I also,
S. McB.