She will arrive on the Pearl of Peru at about three P.M. to-morrow, and M.D. is going with me to meet her. He is dear about it all, and so am I, now that I've got my breath! I'm remembering what a dewy-eyed little dove of a thing she is. A few days of happy holiday for her, and then the mildest and gayest school I can find, one where they have no stuffy rules about not letting the pupils come home for week-ends.
The Profesor explained that the Hospicio had fallen on evil days during the revolution and the children are now cared for in private families. The three different households which had been sheltering Dolores had been obliged from various circumstances to give her up, and Señor Morales regretted the limitations of his own establishment.
Poor, pitiful little creature ... little "Sorrows and Sadness!" I must pledge myself to make her over into Joys and Gladness—Alegrías y Felicidad, if I remember my Spanish at all.
I'm ashamed of those mean moments at first when I didn't want her!
Penitently,
Jane.
P.S. I mean to have her call me Aunt Jane, which will be "Tia Juana." Isn't that charming? I really don't care to be called "Mother" just now by a twelve-year-old daughter. It's—a bit un-bridal.
Sunday Night.
My Dear Sarah,
I wasn't up to writing you yesterday—I'm not really able to, now, but I'll try to tap you out a few feeble lines....