My grandma has a pet little cow. Pa says it’s a calf, and I got the pony’s harness and put it on the calf, and he didn’t like to be a pony at all. He just kicked and tipped me all over the yard. Ma screamed and Pa laughed. Pa said, “Let them alone, both those kids are just alike,” meaning me and the calf. We are better friends than when I first came here, for he would run when I came in sight, but now he runs to meet me, ’cause he expects me to give him some sugar. He likes it just as well as my pony does. I often feel sad to think that I can’t feed sugar to my automobile—don’t it seem a real shame?—but they are built to live on electricity or gasoline. I just pity them. Think of not being able to eat ice-cream and chocolates. My Uncle Smith is coming to see me from Buffalo. He is the dearest man. He has a camera and the first time I saw him he had on a brown suit and his camera slung over his shoulder, and oh, my! but he looked the professional. I was almost scared of him, but he is a mighty nice man. He has taken lots of pictures of me with my Franklin car, and he got a snap shot of Deacon Weston on the flying horses, and I nearly died myself when I saw it. He looked worse than a scotcher after a highball, Pa said. I never saw a highball, but Pa says it’s a live wire, so I shall keep in the middle of the good path. I heard a Salvation Army man say that, so it is on the level. Pa says slang forms too great a part of the present-day conversation, but I don’t think I am any joke, only I know my Pa knows all that is worth knowing. My Pa is a very wise man for his years—he’s been married twice, and he says two marriages will either make or break a man, depends on his disposition. Pa says he made a mess of his first marriage, but the second one was good. I belong to the second house. Pa says a man who is married twice can learn to manage the worst kind of an automobile. He says none of them could have more kinks than some women, and do such unexpected stunts. I guess the man I read about in the automobile magazine that never swears under any condition has been married twice. Pa says two marriages will smooth out a man’s disposition as nice as a hot iron will a shirt-bosom. They asked Pa to run for Governor of New York State; said he could govern anything, but Pa is very modest. He said his wife didn’t like society and he considered her happiness first; said all men should. Pa knows which side his bread is buttered on, Ma has all the money I I sang that song one night called “Everybody Works but Father,” and Pa nearly lost his temper. He took it personally to himself, so for the last few days he gets up at five o’clock and goes up Commonwealth Ave. with his car and blows his Gabriel horn for all he is worth all the way. Once I heard him say as he went out: “Yes, everybody works but Father, do they? Well, I guess they will think Father’s working some to-day.”