appointment himself, and if she tells me again that he is
ashleep, I shall give her a gentle push and tip her over (she's
very fat and unstable) and, planting a foot firmly on her
stomach, pursue my way tranquilly in and up. Luellen, formerly
chauffeur, chambermaid, and gardener, is now also trained nurse.
I am eager to see how he looks in a white cap and apron.

The mail has just come, with a letter from Mrs. Bretland,
telling how happy they are to have the children. She inclosed
their first photograph--all packed in a governess cart, with
Clifford proudly holding the reins, and a groom at the pony's
head. How is that for three late inmates of the John Grier Home?

It's all very inspiring when I think of their futures, but a
trifle sad when I remember their poor father, and how he worked
himself to death for those three chicks who are going to forget
him. The Bretlands will do their best to accomplish that. They
are jealous of any outside influence and want to make the babies
wholly theirs. After all, I think the natural way is best--for
each family to produce its own children, and keep them.

Friday.


I saw the doctor today. He's a pathetic sight, consisting
mostly of bandages. Somehow or other we got our
misunderstandings all made up. Isn't it dreadful the way two
human beings, both endowed with fair powers of speech, can manage
to convey nothing of their psychological processes to each other?