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'STONE GATE', WORCESTER, MASS., 31st December
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I meant to write to you before and thank you for your Christmas cheque, but life in the McBride household is very absorbing, and I don't seem able to find two consecutive minutes to spend at a desk.

I bought a new gown— one that I didn't need, but just wanted. My Christmas present this year is from Daddy-Long-Legs; my family just sent love.
I've been having the most beautiful vacation visiting Sallie.

She lives in a big old-fashioned brick house with white trimmings set back from the street— exactly the kind of house that I used to look at so curiously when I was in the John Grier Home, and wonder what it could be like inside. 

I never expected to see with my own eyes— but here I am! Everything is so comfortable and restful and homelike; I walk from room to room and drink in the furnishings.

It is the most perfect house for children to be brought up in; with shadowy nooks for hide and seek, and open fire places for pop-corn, and an attic to romp in on rainy days and slippery banisters with a comfortable flat knob at the bottom, and a great big sunny kitchen, and a nice, fat, sunny cook who has lived in the family thirteen years and always saves out a piece of dough for the children to bake. 

Just the sight of such a house makes you want to be a child all over again. And as for families! I never dreamed they could be so nice. 

Sallie has a father and mother and grandmother, and the sweetest three-year-old baby sister all over curls, and a medium-sized brother who always forgets to wipe his feet, and a big, good-looking brother named Jimmie, who is a junior at Princeton.

We have the jolliest times at the table— everybody laughs and jokes and talks at once, and we don't have to say grace beforehand. 

It's a relief not having to thank Somebody for every mouthful you eat. (I dare say I'm blasphemous; but you'd be, too, if you'd offered as much obligatory thanks as I have.)

Such a lot of things we've done— I can't begin to tell you about them. Mr. McBride owns a factory and Christmas eve he had a tree for the employees' children. 

It was in the long packing-room which was decorated with evergreens and holly.
Jimmie McBride was dressed as Santa Claus and Sallie and I helped him distribute the presents.

Dear me, Daddy, but it was a funny sensation! I felt as benevolent as a Trustee of the John Grier home. 
I kissed one sweet, sticky little boy— but I don't think I patted any of them on the head!

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