“Poor grandmother looked so uncomfortable that I felt sorry for her, and after I had said, ‘I don’t belong to any, Dr. Baxter,’ she tried to explain about our living on a ‘large farm’ (I don’t believe grandmother thinks ranches are real _proper_) and not being near a church. “Aunt Nan tried to change the subject, but Dr. Baxter just wouldn’t have it changed, and after looking at me thoughtfully for a few moments, he said: “‘I wonder that our Home Mission Board does not send candidates to that needy field. Do you have no traveling preachers, Miss Virginia?’ “Grandmother looked so uneasy that I did try to say just the right thing, father, but I guess I made a mistake, because I told him that we did have traveling preachers sometimes, only we didn’t feel that we needed just the kind of preaching they gave. His nose quivered more than ever, and grandmother tried to explain again only she didn’t know how, and at last he said: “‘If the Word is not appreciated in Wyoming, it is elsewhere, thank God!’—just as though Wyoming were a wilderness where ‘heathen in their blindness bow down to wood and stone.’ Grandmother looked more mortified than ever, and the silence grew so heavy that you could hear it whirring in your ears. By and by we did leave the table, and then I excused myself to write to you, but I couldn’t seem to write at all, I felt so troubled about mortifying poor grandmother. This morning I thought she would speak of it, but she didn’t, and perhaps, if I make no more slips, she will forget about it. It is very difficult to be a constant credit to one’s family, especially when it requires so much forethought. “Grandmother feels very bad because she has no son to carry on the family name. When she and Aunt Nan and Aunt Lou die, she says ‘the name will vanish from this town where it has been looked up to for two hundred years.’ “It makes a great difference in Webster _how_ one does things—even more than _what_ one does. This morning, when Aunt Nan and I were going to walk, Aunt Nan said, ‘I think we’ll run in to see Mrs. Dexter, mother. She’ll want to see Virginia.’ And grandmother said, ‘Not in the morning, Nan. It would never do!’ So we have to go in the afternoon. I told Aunt Nan when we were walking that at home we called on our friends any time, and she said she wished she lived in Wyoming! _She_ could ‘belong’ to us, father, but I’m afraid grandmother never could enjoy Jim and William and the others. She is too Websterized. “Wasn’t it thoughtful of Aunt Nan to put mother’s old ‘Scottish Chiefs’ on my table? It has all her markings in it. Last night—but I won’t tell you, because you will think I am homesick, and I’m not! Please tell Don.