Dear Judy

That doctor man is still away. No word; just disappeared into space. I don’t know whether he is ever coming back or not, but we seem to be running very happily without him.

I lunched yesterday CHEZ the two kind ladies who have taken our Punch to their hearts. The young man seems to be very much at home. He took me by the hand, and did the honors of the garden, presenting me with the bluebell of my choice. At luncheon the English butler lifted him into his chair and tied on his bib with as much manner as though he were serving a prince of the blood. The butler has lately come from the household of the Earl of Durham, Punch from a cellar in Houston Street. It was a very uplifting spectacle.

My hostesses entertained me afterward with excerpts from their table conversations of the last two weeks. (I wonder the butler hasn’t given notice; he looked like a respectable man.) If nothing more comes of it, at least Punch has furnished them with funny stories for the rest of their lives. One of them is even thinking of writing a book. “At least,” says she, wiping hysterical tears from her eyes, “we have lived!”

The Hon. Cy dropped in at 6:30 last night, and found me in an evening gown, starting for a dinner at Mrs. Livermore’s house. He mildly observed that Mrs. Lippett did not aspire to be a society leader, but saved her energy for her work. You know I’m not vindictive, but I never look at that man without wishing he were at the bottom of the duck pond, securely anchored to a rock.

Otherwise he’d pop up and float.

Singapore respectfully salutes you, and is very glad that you can’t see him as he now appears. A shocking calamity has befallen his good looks. Some bad child—and I don’t think she’s a boy—has clipped that poor beastie in spots, until he looks like a mangy, moth-eaten checkerboard. No one can imagine who did it. Sadie Kate is very handy with the scissors, but she is also handy with an alibi! During the time when the clipping presumably occurred, she was occupying a stool in the corner of the schoolroom with her face to the wall, as twenty-eight children can testify. However, it has become Sadie Kate’s daily duty to treat those spots with your hair tonic.

I am, as usual,

Sallie

P.S. This is a recent portrait of the Hon. Cy drawn from life. The man, in some respects, is a fascinating talker; he makes gestures with his nose.