So he brought a Concordance over to me, and he translated the Hebrew for me. By the time he got through, I thought, "This is worth far more to me than a piece of candy", and I knew when he came over and offered me that candy there must be something else besides just candy-things like that just don't happen every day.

I was very happy to have all the references to angels in the bible, and I incorporated them in the paper that I gave to Miss Miner at the end of the term. She read the paper, and she told me there was so much work in the paper that I was "wallowing in this up to your ears," and I'd have to read it over when I'd cooled off a little bit and pick out the part I most wanted to work on. Well, meanwhile a lot of other things had been happening.

I had been working on an educational program for radio combining music and poetry, and I had to get it ready for May 14, when I was to put it on for a group of people at the Stafford Hotel in Baltimore. This had been arranged by my friend Betty almost a year before. A week beforehand, I got dreadfully distraught because I had to get a record, a sound effects record, which had the sound of the wind on it, and I couldn't get it in Baltimore. It was getting awfully late, and I didn't know how I could get it from New York in time.

That evening my brother-in-law Bernard, who lives in Washington, called me up and said, "How would you like to go to New York, all expenses paid, with Dot? Go for three days and have a wonderful time, and I'll make all the arrangements for the trip tomorrow, when I go to New York. I won't take no for an answer. You're absolutely going!"

"Well," I thought, "How wonderful!" Another amazing thing-I really wanted that record so badly and was so worried about it, and there, suddenly, appears my chance to go to New York. So I went to New York and got the record, and had a very, very wonderful time.

When I came back, I put the program on, but, previous to that-the real reason I'm telling all this is that there is a tie-in with the family of a policeman who had taken Linda across the street every day. He always had a smile for Linda, and she always had a smile for him. But I didn't know how fond he was of her until after he was run over and killed by an automobile in front of his church, the Roland Park Presbyterian, six weeks after Linda's death, near the same school where he had helped her across the street.

I visited the family. There was a lot of publicity about what had happened, and everybody wanted to help them. I took a lot of things over when I called on them. The child who opened the door was the eldest child of this patrolman, Roland Morgan. He had been a wonderful father, a kind husband, and was deeply beloved. It was a terrible tragedy to that family. I felt very close to them, closer still when, after I'd been in there for an hour, they told me that at Linda's death he had come home to them with tears and told them he felt so horrible because a little child that he dearly loved had died and that he had wanted his children to know Linda.

They told me all these things, and, while I was working on the program, I had rewritten it in the form of a little play. There was lots of music and poetry in it, and I needed a little child who would take the part of Linda in the story, and Dorothy Morgan, a lovely, alert girl who was very beautiful with blue eyes and blonde hair-very deeply upset at her father's death, and needing help very badly-was just the child, I felt, for the part.

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