Yours, as usual,

S. McB.


Tuesday, 5 P.M.
My dear Enemy:

I am told that during my absence this afternoon you paid us a
call and dug up a scandal. You claim that the children under
Miss Snaith are not receiving their due in the matter of cod-
liver oil.

I am sorry if your medicinal orders have not been carried
out, but you must know that it is a difficult matter to introduce
that abominably smelling stuff into the inside of a squirming
child. And poor Miss Snaith is a very much overworked person.
She has ten more children to care for than should rightly fall
into the lot of any single woman, and until we find her another
assistant, she has very little time for the fancy touches you
demand.

Also, my dear Enemy, she is very susceptible to abuse. When
you feel in a fighting mood, I wish you would expend your
belligerence upon me. I don't mind it; quite the contrary. But
that poor lady has retired to her room in a state of hysterics,
leaving nine babies to be tucked into bed by whomever it may
concern.