The picture is safe. The handkerchief is safe. The purse is safe. And so am I. I am _too_ safe. I should like to be running on the edge of the dock on the dangerous side, almost falling in. See the nice tail on the comma. I like to make commas, but I use more periods. The periods are like frog's eggs in the Cinder Pond but the commas are like pollywogs with tails. That's how I remember. Mrs. Huntington is not like Mollie. Mollie looks soft all over. Some day I shall put my finger very softly on Mrs. Huntington to see if she feels as hard as she looks. Her back would be safest I think. She is very kind about giving me things but I do not know her very well yet. She does not cuddle her children like Mollie cuddles hers. She is too hard and smooth to cuddle. There are little knives for bread and butter and they eat green leaves with a funny fork. I ate a round green thing called an olive. I didn't like it but I didn't make a face. I didn't know what to do with the seed so I kept it in my mouth until I had a chance to throw it under the table. Was that right? There is no lake. They get water out of pipes but not in a pail. Hot and cold right in my room. Maggie, she is the maid, showed me how to make a light. You push a button. You push another and the light goes out. She said two years ago this house was all made over new inside. This is another day. My bed is very big and lonesome. I am like a little black huckleberry in a pan of milk when I am in it. I can see in the glass how I look in bed. I have a great many new clothes. I have tried them on. Some do not fit and must go back. I have a brown dress. It is real silk to wear on Sunday. I have a white dress. It looks like white clouds in the sky. And a red jacket. And more under things but I like the ones you bought the best, because I like _you_ best. This is four more days. I have been to church. I stood up and sat down like the others. I liked the feathers on the ladies' hats and the little boys in nightgowns that marched around and sang. Next Sunday I am to go to Sunday School. Mrs. Huntington says I am a Heathen. I got a chance to touch her. Her back _is_ hard. Now I will say good-by. But I like to write to you; so I hate to send it away but I will begin another letter right now. Maggie will put this in the letter box for me. I like Maggie but I am afraid I will tell her about my past life. Mrs. Huntington says I must never mention bare feet or fish. Yours truly, JEANNETTE HUNTINGTON DUVAL. P.S.--Mrs. Huntington told a lady I was that, but _you_ know I am just your Jeanne. I love you better than anybody.