Yours as always,
Judy
PS. The postman arrives with some more news. We are to expect Master
Jervie on Friday next to spend a week. That's a very pleasant
prospect--only I am afraid my poor book will suffer. Master Jervie is
very demanding.
27th August
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Where are you, I wonder?
I never know what part of the world you are in, but I hope you're not
in New York during this awful weather. I hope you're on a mountain
peak (but not in Switzerland; somewhere nearer) looking at the snow and
thinking about me. Please be thinking about me. I'm quite lonely and
I want to be thought about. Oh, Daddy, I wish I knew you! Then when
we were unhappy we could cheer each other up.
I don't think I can stand much more of Lock Willow. I'm thinking of
moving. Sallie is going to do settlement work in Boston next winter.
Don't you think it would be nice for me to go with her, then we could
have a studio together? I would write while she SETTLED and we could
be together in the evenings. Evenings are very long when there's no
one but the Semples and Carrie and Amasai to talk to. I know in
advance that you won't like my studio idea. I can read your
secretary's letter now:
'Miss Jerusha Abbott.
'DEAR MADAM, 'Mr. Smith prefers that you remain at Lock Willow.
'Yours truly,
'ELMER H. GRIGGS.'
I hate your secretary. I am certain that a man named Elmer H. Griggs
must be horrid. But truly, Daddy, I think I shall have to go to
Boston. I can't stay here. If something doesn't happen soon, I shall
throw myself into the silo pit out of sheer desperation.
Mercy! but it's hot. All the grass is burnt up and the brooks are dry
and the roads are dusty. It hasn't rained for weeks and weeks.
This letter sounds as though I had hydrophobia, but I haven't. I just
want some family.
Goodbye, my dearest Daddy.
I wish I knew you.
Judy
LOCK WILLOW,
19th September
Dear Daddy,
Something has happened and I need advice. I need it from you, and from
nobody else in the world. Wouldn't it be possible for me to see you?
It's so much easier to talk than to write; and I'm afraid your
secretary might open the letter.
Judy
PS. I'm very unhappy.
LOCK WILLOW,
3rd October
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Your note written in your own hand--and a pretty wobbly hand!--came
this morning. I am so sorry that you have been ill; I wouldn't have
bothered you with my affairs if I had known. Yes, I will tell you the
trouble, but it's sort of complicated to write, and VERY PRIVATE.
Please don't keep this letter, but burn it.