Miss Salome's face was gently frowning as she wrote."Dear John," the letter began,-"It's all very well except one thing. I wonder you didn't think of that. I'm thinking of it most of the time, and it takes away so much of the pleasure of the rose-garden and the raspberry-bushes! Anne is in raptures over the raspberry-bushes."Yes, the raspberries and the roses are all right. And I like the stone-wall with the woodbine over it. (Good boy, you remembered that, didn't you?) And the apple-tree and the horse-chestnut and the elm-of course I like them."The house is just big enough and just small enough, and there's a trunk-closet, as I stipulated. And Anne's room has a 'southern exposure'-Anne's crazy spot is southern exposures. Mine's it. Dear, dear, John, how could you forget it! That everything else-closets and stone-walls and exposures-should be to my mind but that! Well, I am thinking of moving out, before I move in. But I haven't told Anne. Anne is the kind of person not to tell, until the last moment. It saves one's nerves-heigh-ho! I thought I was coming here to get away from nerves! I was so satisfied. I really meant to thank you, John, until I discovered-it. Oh yes, I know-Elizabeth is looking over your shoulder, and you two are saying something that is unfit for publication about old maids! My children, then thank the Lord you aren't either of you old maids. Make the most of it."