It was such a lark! Especially for me, because it was so awfully
different from the asylum--I feel like an escaped convict every time I
leave the campus. Before I thought, I started to tell the others what
an experience I was having. The cat was almost out of the bag when I
grabbed it by its tail and pulled it back. It's awfully hard for me
not to tell everything I know. I'm a very confiding soul by nature; if
I didn't have you to tell things to, I'd burst.
We had a molasses candy pull last Friday evening, given by the house
matron of Fergussen to the left-behinds in the other halls. There were
twenty-two of us altogether, Freshmen and Sophomores and juniors and
Seniors all united in amicable accord. The kitchen is huge, with
copper pots and kettles hanging in rows on the stone wall--the littlest
casserole among them about the size of a wash boiler. Four hundred
girls live in Fergussen. The chef, in a white cap and apron, fetched
out twenty-two other white caps and aprons--I can't imagine where he
got so many--and we all turned ourselves into cooks.
It was great fun, though I have seen better candy. When it was finally
finished, and ourselves and the kitchen and the door-knobs all
thoroughly sticky, we organized a procession and still in our caps and
aprons, each carrying a big fork or spoon or frying pan, we marched
through the empty corridors to the officers' parlour, where
half-a-dozen professors and instructors were passing a tranquil
evening. We serenaded them with college songs and offered
refreshments. They accepted politely but dubiously. We left them
sucking chunks of molasses candy, sticky and speechless.
So you see, Daddy, my education progresses!
Don't you really think that I ought to be an artist instead of an
author?
Vacation will be over in two days and I shall be glad to see the girls
again. My tower is just a trifle lonely; when nine people occupy a
house that was built for four hundred, they do rattle around a bit.
Eleven pages--poor Daddy, you must be tired! I meant this to be just a
short little thank-you note--but when I get started I seem to have a
ready pen.
Goodbye, and thank you for thinking of me--I should be perfectly happy
except for one little threatening cloud on the horizon. Examinations
come in February.
Yours with love,
Judy
PS. Maybe it isn't proper to send love? If it isn't, please excuse.
But I must love somebody and there's only you and Mrs. Lippett to
choose between, so you see--you'll HAVE to put up with it, Daddy dear,
because I can't love her.