No doubt you will have guessed that Henry is a better and sounder
writer than I. He has helped me a lot with his criticism and advice,
for he is fastidious regarding style. There used to be a time, before
he came along, when I walked in darkness, often beginning sentences
with conjunctions and ending them with adverbs; I have even split
infinitives and gone on my way rejoicing. I am now greatly improved,
though one of the incurable things I shall never eradicate from my
system is a weakness for beginning sentences with 'but.' But if you
observe it, I hope you will kindly pass it over without remark.

Henry often talks to me about construction. 'If you are writing a
book,' he says, 'don't introduce all your characters in the first
chapter. Let them develop gradually.'

Now that is sound advice. It was not, however, for the sake of
construction that I refrained from telling you about The Kid at the
very beginning. I was impelled to silence by the same reason which
kept me from mentioning The Kid to Elizabeth until her box had arrived
and she had settled down. I feel sure you do not want to hear about
The Kid any more than Elizabeth did. It is annoying to read about
children. If they are good they cloy, and if bad they irritate. The
Kid is neither. In any case, it is time she came home now, so she will
have to drop in here. During my servantless period she stayed with
friends--which was a good thing for her digestion and my nervous
system. Now there was no longer any excuse--I mean, it was now time
for her to return.

[Illustration: The Kid.]

She is what you would call a boisterous child, overflowing with