each. I am leaving with her some of the most promising older
girls who have shown housekeeping instincts, and would like to
learn cooking on a decently small scale. Mrs. Wilson and her
husband are such a wonderful couple, thrifty and industrious and
simple and loving, I think it would do the girls good to observe
them. A training class in wifehood!

I told you about the Knowltop people on the east of us, who
took in forty-seven youngsters the night of the fire, and how
their entire house party turned themselves into emergency
nursemaids? We relieved them of thirty-six the next day, but
they still have eleven. Did I ever call Mr. Knowltop a crusty
old curmudgeon? I take it back. I beg his pardon. He's a sweet
lamb. Now, in the time of our need, what do you think that
blessed man has done? He has fitted up an empty tenant house on
the estate for our babies, has himself engaged an English trained
baby nurse to take charge, and furnishes them with the superior
milk from his own model dairy. He says he has been wondering for
years what to do with that milk. He can't afford to sell it,
because he loses four cents on every quart!

The twelve older girls from dormitory A I am putting into the
farmer's new cottage. The poor Turnfelts, who had occupied it
just two days, are being shoved on into the village. But they
wouldn't be any good in looking after the children, and I need
their room. Three or four of these girls have been returned from
foster homes as intractable, and they require pretty efficient
supervision. So what do you think I've done? Telegraphed to
Helen Brooks to chuck the publishers and take charge of my girls
instead. You know she will be wonderful with them. She