running or shouting or coasting or snowballs. Think of it!
These children don't know how to play.

STILL LATER.


I have already begun the congenial task of spending your
money. I bought eleven hot-water bottles this afternoon (every
one that the village drug store contained) likewise some woolen
blankets and padded quilts. And the windows are wide open in the
babies' dormitory. Those poor little tots are going to enjoy the
perfectly new sensation of being able to breathe at night.

There are a million things I want to grumble about, but it's
half-past ten, and Jane says I MUST go to bed.

Yours in command,

SALLIE McBRIDE.

P.S. Before turning in, I tiptoed through the corridor to make
sure that all was right, and what do you think I found? Miss
Snaith softly closing the windows in the babies' dormitory! Just
as soon as I can find a suitable position for her in an old
ladies' home, I am going to discharge that woman.

Jane takes the pen from my hand.

Good night.