after I had read the letter and measured it. 

[21]

 No, nobody would blame me for running right across the garden to Doctor John with such a real trouble as that! All of a sudden I hugged the letter and the little book up close to my breast and laughed until the tears ran down my cheeks. 

 Then before I went into the house I assembled my garden and had family prayers with my flowers. I do that because they are all the family I've got, and God knows that all His budding things  [22]    need encouragement, whether it is a widow or a snowball-bush. He'll give it to us! 

[22]

 And I'm praying again as I sit here and watch for the doctor's light to go out. I hate to go to sleep and leave it burning, for he sits up so late and he is so gaunt and thin and tired-looking most times. That's what the last prayer is about, almost always,—sleep for him and no night call! 

 [23] 

[23]

 

     LEAF SECOND 

     A LOVE-LETTER, LOADED 

 The very worst page in this red—red devil—I'm glad I've written it at last—of a book is the fifth. It says: 

 "Breakfast—one slice of dry toast, one egg, fruit and a tablespoonful of baked cereal, small cup of coffee, no sugar, no cream." And me with two Jersey cows full of the richest cream in Hillsboro, Harpeth Valley, out in my pasture! 

 "Dinner, one small lean chop, slice of toast, spinach, green beans and lettuce salad. No dessert or sweet." The blue-grass in my yard is full of fat little fryers and I wish I were a sheep if I have to eat lettuce and spinach for grass. At least  [24]    I'd have more than one chop inside me then. 

[24]

 "Supper—slice of toast and an apple." Why the apple? Why supper at all? 

 Oh, I'm hungry, hungry until I cry in my sleep when I dream about a muffin! I thought at first that getting out of bed before my eyes are fairly open and turning myself into a 

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