e　finally　got　out　his　case　of　fishing　flies；　and　gallantly　presented　Betsy　and　me　with　a　〃silver　doctor〃　and　a　〃Jack　Scott〃　out　of　which　to　make　hatpins。　　Then　the　conversation　wandered　to　sport　on　the　Scotch　moors；　and　he　told　about　one　time　when　he　was　lost；　and　spent　the　night　out　in　the　heather。　　There　is　no　doubt　about　it；　Sandy's　heart　is　in　the　highlands。
  I　am　afraid　that　Betsy　and　I　have　wronged　him。　　Though　it　is　hard　to　relinquish　the　interesting　idea；　he　may　not；　after　all；　have　committed　a　crime。　　We　are　now　leaning　to　the　belief　that　he　was　crossed　in　love。
  It's　really　horrid　of　me　to　make　fun　of　poor　Sandy；　for；　despite　his　stern　bleakness　of　disposition；　he's　a　pathetic　figure　of　a　man。　　Think　of　coming　home　after　an　anxious　day's　round　to　eat　a　solitary　dinner　in　that　grim　dining　room！
  Do　you　suppose　it　would　cheer　him　up　a　little　if　I　should　send　my　company　of　artists　to　paint　a　frieze　of　rabbits　around　the　wall？
  With　love；　as　usual；
  SALLIE。
  Dear　Judy：
  Aren't　you　ever　coming　back　to　New　York？　　Please　hurry！　　I　need　a　new　hat；　and　am　desirous　of　shopping　for　it　on　Fifth　Avenue；　not　on　Water　Street。　　Mrs。　Gruby；　our　best　milliner；　does　not　believe　in　slavishly　following　Paris　Fashions；　she　originates　her　own　styles。　　But　three　years　ago；　as　a　great　concession　to　convention；　she　did　make　a　tour　of　the　New　York　shops；　and　is　still　creating　models　on　the　uplift　of　that　visit。
  Also；　besides　my　own　hat；　I　must　buy　113　hats　for　my　children；　to　say　nothing　of　shoes　and　knickerbockers　and　shirts　and　hair…ribbons　and　stockings　and　garters。　　It's　quite　a　task　to　keep　a　little　family　like　mine　decently　clothed。
  Did　you　get　that　big　letter　I　wrote　you　last　week？　　You　never　had　the　grace　to　mention　it　in　yours　of　Thursday；　and　it　was　seventeen　pages　long；　and　took　me　DAYS　to　write。
  Yours　truly；
  S。　McBRIDE。
  P。S。　　Why　don't　you　tell　me　some　news　about　Gordon？　　Have　you　seen　him；　and　did　he　mention　me？　　Is　he　running　after　any　of　those　pretty　Southern　girls　that　Washington　is　so　full　of？　　You　know　that　I　want　to　hear。　　Why　must　you　be　so　beastly　uncommunicative？
  Tuesday；　4：27　P。M。　Dear　Judy：
  Your　telegram　came　two　minutes　ago　by　telephone。
  Yes；　thank　you；　I　shall　be　delighted　to　arrive　at　5：49　on　Thursday　afternoon。　　And　don't　make　any　engagements　for　that　evening；　please；　as　I　intend　to　sit　up　until　midnight　talking　John　Grier　gossip　with　you　and　the　president。
  Friday　and　Saturday　and　Monday　I　shall　have　to　devote　to　shopping。　　Oh；　yes；　you're　right；　I　already　possess　more　clothes　than　any　jailbird　needs；　but　when　spring　comes；　I　must　have　new　plumage。　　As　it　is；　I　wear　an　evening　gown　every　night　just　to　wear　them　outno；　not　entirely　that；　to　make　myself　believe　that　I'm　still　an　ordinary　girl　despite　this　extraordinary　life　that　you　have　pushed　me　into。
  The　Hon。　Cy　found　me　yesterday　arrayed　in　a　Nile…green　crepe　（Jane's　creation；　though　it　looked　Parisian）。　　He　was　quite　puzzled　when　he　found　I　wasn't　going　to　a　ball。　　I　invited　him　to　stay　and　dine　with　me；　and　he　accepted！　　We　got　on　very　affably。　　He　expands　over　his　dinner。　　Food　appears　to　agree　with　him。　　If　there's　any　Bernard　Shaw　in　New　York　just　now；　I　believe　that　I　might　spare　a　couple　of　hours　Saturday　afternoon　for　a　matinee。　　G。　B。　S。's　dialogue　would　afford　such　a　life…giving　contrast　to　the　Hon。　Cy's。
  There's　no　use　writing　any　more；　I'll　wait　and　talk。
  ADDIO。
  SALLIE。
  P。S。　　Oh　dear！　just　as　I　had　begun　to　catch　glimmerings　of　niceness　in　Sandy；　he　broke　out　again　and　was　ABOMINABLE。　　We　unfortunately　have　five　cases　of　measles　in　this　institution；　and　the　man's　manner　suggests　that　Miss　Snaith　and　I　gave　the　measles　to　the　children　on　purpose　to　make　him　trouble。　　There　are　many　days　when　I　should　be　willing　to　accept　our　doctor's　resignation。
  Wednesday。　Dear　Enemy：
  Your　brief　and　dignified　note　of　yesterday　is　at　hand。　　I　have　never　known　anybody　whose　literary　style　resembled　so　exactly　his　spoken　word。
  And　you　will　be　greatly　obliged　if　I　will　drop　my　absurd　fashion　of　calling　you　〃Enemy〃？　　I　will　drop　my　absurd　fashion　of　calling　you　Enemy　just　as　soon　as　you　drop　your　absurd　fashion　of　getting　angry　and　abusive　and　insulting　the　moment　any　little　thing　goes　wrong。
  I　am　leaving　tomorrow　afternoon　to　spend　four　days　in　New　York。
  Yours　truly；
  S。　McBRIDE。
  CHEZ　THE　PENDLETONS；　New　York。　My　dear　Enemy：
  I　trust　that　this　note　will　find　you　in　a　more　affable　frame　of　mind　than　when　I　saw　you　last。　　I　emphatically　repeat　that　it　was　not　due　to　the　carelessness　of　the　superintendent　of　our　institution　that　those　two　new　cases　of　measles　crept　in；　but　rather　to　the　unfortunate　anatomy　of　our　old…fashioned　building；　which　does　not　permit　of　the　proper　isolation　of　contagious　cases。
  As　you　did　not　deign　to　visit　us　yesterday　morning　before　I　left；　I　could　not　offer　any　parting　suggestions。　　I　therefore　write　to　ask　that　you　cast　your　critical　eye　upon　Mamie　Prout。　　She　is　covered　all　over　with　little　red　spots　which　may　be　measles；　though　I　am　hoping　not。　　Mamie　spots　very　easily。
  I　return　to　prison　life　next　Monday　at　six　o'clock。
  Yours　truly；
  S。　McBRIDE。
  P。S。　　I　trust　you　will　pardon　my　mentioning　it；　but　you　are　not　the　kind　of　doctor　that　I　admire。　　I　like　them　chubby　and　round　and　smiling。
  THE　JOHN　GRIER　HOME；
  June　9。　Dear　Judy：
  You　are　an　awful　family　for　an　impressionable　young　girl　to　visit。　　How　can　you　expect　me　to　come　back　and　settle　down　contentedly　to　institution　life　after　witnessing　such　a　happy　picture　of　domestic　concord　as　the　Pendleton　household　presents？
  All　the　way　back　in　the　train；　instead　of　occupying　myself　with　two　novels；　four　magazines；　and　one　box　of　chocolates　that　your　husband　thoughtfully　provided；　I　spent　the　time　in　a　mental　review　of　the　young　men　of　my　acquaintance　to　see　if　I　couldn't　discover　one　as　nice　as　Jervis。　　I　did！　　（A　little　nicer；　I　think。）　　From　this　day　on　he　is　the　marked…down　victim；　the　destined　prey。
  I　shall　hate　to　give　up　the　asylum　after　getting　so　excited　over　it；　but　unless　you　are　willing　to　move　it　to　the　capital；　I　don't　see　any　alternative。
  The　train　was　awfully　late。　　We　sat　and　smoked　on　a　siding　while　two　accommodations　and　a　freight　dashed　past。　　I　think　we　must　have　broken　something；　and　had　to　tinker　up　our　engine。　　The　conductor　was　soothing；　but　uncommunicative。
  It　was　7：30　when　I　descended；　the　only　passenger；　at　our　insignificant　station　in　the　pitch　darkness　and　RAIN；　without　an　umbrella；　and　wearing　that　precious　new　hat。　　No　Turnfelt　to　meet　me；　not　even　a　station　hack。　　To　be　sure；　I　hadn't　telegraphed　the　exact　time　of　my　arrival；　but；　still；　I　did　feel　rather　neglected。　　I　had　sort　of　vaguely　expected　all　ONE　HUNDRED　AND　THIRTEEN　to　be　drawn　up　by　the　platform；　scattering　flowers　and　singing　songs　of　welcome。　　Just　as　I　was　telling　the　station　man　that　I　would　watch　his　telegraph　instrument　while　he　ran　across　to　the　corner　saloon　and　telephoned　for　a　vehicle；　there　came　whirling　around　the　corner　two　big　searchlights　aimed　straight　at　me。　　They　stopped　nine　inches　before　running　me　down；　and　I　heard　Sandy's　voice　saying：
  〃Weel；　weel；　Miss　Sallie　McBride！　　I'm　thinking　it's　ower　time　you　came　back　to　tak'　the　bit　bairns　off　my　hands。〃
  That　man　had　come　three　times　to　meet　me　on　the　off　chance　of　the　train's　getting　in　some　time。　　He　tucked　me　and　my　new　hat　and　bags　and　books　and　chocolates　all　in　under　his　waterproof　flap；　and　we　splashed　off。　　Really；　I　felt　as　if　I　was　getting　back　home　again；　and　quite　sad　at　the　thought　of　ever　having　to　leave。　　Mentally；　you　see；　I　had　already　resigned　and　packed　and　gone。　　The　mere　idea　that　you　are　not　in　a　place　for　the　rest　of　your　life　gives　you　an　awfully　unstable　feeling。　　That's　why　trial　marriages　would　never　work。　　You've　got　to　feel　you're　in　a　thing　irrevocably　and　forever　in　order　to　buckle　down　and　really　put　your　whole　mind　into　making　it　a　success。
  It's　astounding　how　much　news　can　accrue　in　four　days。　　Sandy　just　couldn't　talk　fast　enough　to　tell　me　everything　I　wanted　to　hear。　　Among　other　items；　I　learned　that　Sadie　Kate　had　spent　two　days　in　the　infirmary；　her　malady　being；　according　to　the　doctor's　diagnosis；　half　a　jar　of　gooseberry　jam　and　Heaven　knows　how　many　doughnuts。　　Her　work　had　been　changed　during　my　absence　to　dishwashing　in　the　officers'　pantry；　and　the　juxtaposition　of　so　many　exotic　luxuries　was　too　much　for　her　fragile　virtue。
  Also；　our　colored　cook　Sallie　and　our　colored　useful　man　Noah　have　entered　upon　a　war　of　extermination。　　The　original　trouble　was　over　a　lit