I wish you'd come back to New York. I've appointed you press agent
for this institution, and we need some of your floweriest writing
immediately. There are seven tots here crying to be adopted, and it's
your business to advertise them.
Little Gertrude is cross-eyed, but dear and affectionate and generous.
Can't you write her up so persuasively that some loving family will
be willing to take her even if she isn't beautiful? Her eyes can be
operated on when she's older; but if it were a cross disposition she
had, no surgeon in the world could remove that. The child knows there is
something missing, though she has never seen a live parent in her life.
She holds up her arms persuasively to every person who passes. Put in
all the pathos you are capable of, and see if you can't fetch her a
mother and father.
Maybe you can get one of the New York papers to run a Sunday feature
article about a lot of different children. I'll send some photographs.
You remember what a lot of responses that "Smiling Joe" picture brought
for the Sea Breeze people? I can furnish equally taking portraits of
Laughing Lou and Gurgling Gertrude and Kicking Karl if you will just add
the literary touch.
And do find me some sports who are not afraid of heredity. This wanting
every child to come from one of the first families of Virginia is
getting tiresome.
Yours, as usual,