I forgot to tell you about our flowers. Master Jervie gave us each a
big bunch of violets and lilies-of-the-valley. Wasn't that sweet of
him? I never used to care much for men--judging by Trustees--but I'm
changing my mind.
Eleven pages--this is a letter! Have courage. I'm going to stop.
Yours always,
Judy
10th April
Dear Mr. Rich-Man,
Here's your cheque for fifty dollars. Thank you very much, but I do
not feel that I can keep it. My allowance is sufficient to afford all
of the hats that I need. I am sorry that I wrote all that silly stuff
about the millinery shop; it's just that I had never seen anything like
it before.
However, I wasn't begging! And I would rather not accept any more
charity than I have to.
Sincerely yours,
Jerusha Abbott
11th April
Dearest Daddy,
Will you please forgive me for the letter I wrote you yesterday? After
I posted it I was sorry, and tried to get it back, but that beastly
mail clerk wouldn't give it back to me.
It's the middle of the night now; I've been awake for hours thinking
what a Worm I am--what a Thousand-legged Worm--and that's the worst I
can say! I've closed the door very softly into the study so as not to
wake Julia and Sallie, and am sitting up in bed writing to you on paper
torn out of my history note-book.
I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry I was so impolite about your
cheque. I know you meant it kindly, and I think you're an old dear to
take so much trouble for such a silly thing as a hat. I ought to have
returned it very much more graciously.
But in any case, I had to return it. It's different with me than with
other girls. They can take things naturally from people. They have
fathers and brothers and aunts and uncles; but I can't be on any such
relations with any one. I like to pretend that you belong to me, just
to play with the idea, but of course I know you don't. I'm alone,
really--with my back to the wall fighting the world--and I get sort of
gaspy when I think about it. I put it out of my mind, and keep on
pretending; but don't you see, Daddy? I can't accept any more money
than I have to, because some day I shall be wanting to pay it back, and
even as great an author as I intend to be won't be able to face a
PERFECTLY TREMENDOUS debt.
I'd love pretty hats and things, but I mustn't mortgage the future to
pay for them.