Marilla went to the kitchen nursery, sat down on a stool and put her paper on the bottom of the wooden chair. She began--"Dear Dr. Richards." Oh, there was so much to say! She was well and the babies were improved and could talk a good deal and looked better for not being so fat. She really liked home better and Bridget's kitchen was so clean, and there was always a nice white cloth on the table. It seemed a funny way to live but many of the people did not have meals in their own houses, but went over to the eating place. "I can't spell the other word," she admitted naively. There were so many pretty girls in lovely frocks who walked up and down and didn't have to take care of babies. "I don't believe I am as fond of babies as I used to be. I get tired of having them every day," she explained frankly. "And soon I shall begin to count on the five years."