Oh, dear me! Here I am babbling these silly nothings when I have some
real news up my sleeve. We have a new worker, a gem of a worker.
Do you remember Betsy Kindred, 1910? She led the glee club and was
president of dramatics. I remember her perfectly; she always had lovely
clothes. Well, if you please, she lives only twelve miles from here. I
ran across her by chance yesterday morning as she was motoring through
the village; or, rather, she just escaped running across me.
I never spoke to her in my life, but we greeted each other like the
oldest friends. It pays to have conspicuous hair; she recognized me
instantly. I hopped upon the running board of her car and said:
"Betsy Kindred, 1910, you've got to come back to my orphan asylum and
help me catalogue my orphans."
And it astonished her so that she came. She's to be here four or five
days a week as temporary secretary, and somehow I must manage to keep
her permanently. She's the most useful person I ever saw. I am hoping
that orphans will become such a habit with her that she won't be able to
give them up. I think she might stay if we pay her a big enough salary.
She likes to be independent of her family, as do all of us in these
degenerate times.
In my growing zeal for cataloguing people, I should like to get our
doctor tabulated. If Jervis knows any gossip about him, write it to me,
please; the worse, the better. He called yesterday to lance a felon on
Sammy Speir's thumb, then ascended to my electric-blue parlor to
give instructions as to the dressing of thumbs. The duties of a
superintendent are manifold.
It was just teatime, so I casually asked him to stay, and he did! Not
for the pleasure of my society,--no, indeed,--but because Jane appeared
at the moment with a plate of toasted muffins. He hadn't had any
luncheon, it seems, and dinner was a long way ahead. Between muffins
(he ate the whole plateful) he saw fit to interrogate me as to my
preparedness for this position. Had I studied biology in college? How
far had I gone in chemistry? What did I know of sociology? Had I visited
that model institution at Hastings?
To all of which I responded affably and openly. Then I permitted myself
a question or two: just what sort of youthful training had been required
to produce such a model of logic, accuracy, dignity, and common sense
as I saw sitting before me? Through persistent prodding I elicited a
few forlorn facts, but all quite respectable. You'd think, from his
reticence, there'd been a hanging in the family. The MacRae PERE was
born in Scotland, and came to the States to occupy a chair at Johns
Hopkins; son Robin was shipped back to Auld Reekie for his education.
His grandmother was a M'Lachlan of Strathlachan (I am sure she sounds
respectable), and his vacations were spent in the Hielands a-chasing the
deer.