Thursday, May 2.
Dear Judy:
Such a bewildering whirl of events! The J. G. H. is breathless.
Incidentally, I am on the way toward solving my problem of what to do
with the children while the carpenters and plumbers and masons are here.
Or, rather, my precious brother has solved it for me.
This afternoon I went over my linen supply, and made the shocking
discovery that we have only sheets enough to change the children's beds
every two weeks, which, it appears, is our shiftless custom. While I
was still in the midst of my household gear, with a bunch of keys at my
girdle, looking like the chatelaine of a medieval château, who should be
ushered in but Jimmie?
Being extremely occupied, I dropped a slanting kiss on his nose, and
sent him off to look over the place in charge of my two oldest urchins.
They collected six friends and organized a baseball game. Jimmie came
back blown, but enthusiastic, and consented to prolong his visit over
the week end, though after the dinner I gave him he has decided to take
his future meals at the hotel. As we sat with our coffee before the
fire, I confided to him my anxiety as to what should be done with the
chicks while their new brooder is building. You know Jimmie. In one half
a minute his plan was formulated.
"Build an Adirondack camp on that little plateau up by the wood lot.
You can make three open shacks, each holding eight bunks, and move the
twenty-four oldest boys out there for the summer. It won't cost two
cents."
"Yes," I objected, "but it will cost more than two cents to engage a man
to look after them."
"Perfectly easy," said Jimmie, grandly. "I'll find you a college fellow
who'll be glad to come during the vacation for his board and a mere
pittance, only you'll have to set up more filling board than you gave me
tonight."
Dr. MacRae dropped in about nine o'clock, after visiting the hospital
ward. We've got three cases of whooping cough, but all isolated, and no
more coming. How those three got in is a mystery. It seems there is a
little bird that brings whooping cough to orphan asylums.
Jimmie fell upon him for backing in his camp scheme, and the doctor gave
it enthusiastically. They seized pencil and paper and drew up plans. And
before the evening was over, the last nail was hammered. Nothing would
satisfy those two men but to go to the telephone at ten o'clock and
rouse a poor carpenter from his sleep. He and some lumber are ordered
for eight in the morning.
I finally got rid of them at ten-thirty, still talking uprights and
joists and drainage and roof slants.
The excitement of Jimmie and coffee and all these building operations
induced me to sit down immediately and write a letter to you; but I
think, by your leave, I'll postpone further details to another time.
Yours ever,