February 15.
Dear Judy:
We arrived in a snowstorm at eleven last night, Singapore and Jane and
I. It does not appear to be customary for superintendents of orphan
asylums to bring with them personal maids and Chinese chows. The night
watchman and housekeeper, who had waited up to receive me, were thrown
into an awful flutter. They had never seen the like of Sing, and thought
that I was introducing a wolf into the fold. I reassured them as to his
dogginess, and the watchman, after studying his black tongue, ventured a
witticism. He wanted to know if I fed him on huckleberry pie.
It was difficult to find accommodations for my family. Poor Sing was
dragged off whimpering to a strange woodshed, and given a piece of
burlap. Jane did not fare much better. There was not an extra bed in
the building, barring a five-foot crib in the hospital room. She, as you
know, approaches six. We tucked her in, and she spent the night folded
up like a jackknife. She has limped about today, looking like a decrepit
letter S, openly deploring this latest escapade on the part of her
flighty mistress, and longing for the time when we shall come to our
senses, and return to the parental fireside in Worcester.
I know that she is going to spoil all my chances of being popular with
the rest of the staff. Having her here is the silliest idea that was
ever conceived, but you know my family. I fought their objections step
by step, but they made their last stand on Jane. If I brought her along
to see that I ate nourishing food and didn't stay up all night, I might
come--temporarily; but if I refused to bring her--oh, dear me, I am not
sure that I was ever again to cross the threshold of Stone Gate! So here
we are, and neither of us very welcome, I am afraid.
I woke by a gong at six this morning, and lay for a time listening to
the racket that twenty-five little girls made in the lavatory over my
head. It appears that they do not get baths,--just face-washes,--but
they make as much splashing as twenty-five puppies in a pool. I rose and
dressed and explored a bit. You were wise in not having me come to look
the place over before I engaged.
While my little charges were at breakfast, it seemed a happy time
to introduce myself; so I sought the dining room. Horror piled on
horror--those bare drab walls and oil-cloth-covered tables with tin
cups and plates and wooden benches, and, by way of decoration, that one
illuminated text, "The Lord Will Provide"! The trustee who added that
last touch must possess a grim sense of humor.
Really, Judy, I never knew there was any spot in the world so
entirely ugly; and when I saw those rows and rows of pale, listless,
blue-uniformed children, the whole dismal business suddenly struck
me with such a shock that I almost collapsed. It seemed like an
unachievable goal for one person to bring sunshine to one hundred little
faces when what they need is a mother apiece.
I plunged into this thing lightly enough, partly because you were too
persuasive, and mostly, I honestly think, because that scurrilous Gordon
Hallock laughed so uproariously at the idea of my being able to manage
an asylum. Between you all you hypnotized me. And then of course, after
I began reading up on the subject and visiting all those seventeen
institutions, I got excited over orphans, and wanted to put my own ideas
into practice. But now I'm aghast at finding myself here; it's such a
stupendous undertaking. The future health and happiness of a hundred
human beings lie in my hands, to say nothing of their three or four
hundred children and thousand grandchildren. The thing's geometrically
progressive. It's awful. Who am I to undertake this job? Look, oh, look
for another superintendent!
Jane says dinner's ready. Having eaten two of your institution meals,
the thought of another doesn't excite me.