Oh, Daddy, I'm so excited! I can't wait till daylight to explore.

It's 8.30 now, and I am about to blow out my candle and try to go to

sleep. We rise at five. Did you ever know such fun? I can't believe

this is really Judy. You and the Good Lord give me more than I

deserve. I must be a very, very, VERY good person to pay. I'm going

to be. You'll see.

Good night,

Judy

PS. You should hear the frogs sing and the little pigs squeal and you

should see the new moon! I saw it over my right shoulder.

LOCK WILLOW,

12th July

Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

How did your secretary come to know about Lock Willow? (That isn't a

rhetorical question. I am awfully curious to know.) For listen to

this: Mr. Jervis Pendleton used to own this farm, but now he has given

it to Mrs. Semple who was his old nurse. Did you ever hear of such a

funny coincidence? She still calls him 'Master Jervie' and talks about

what a sweet little boy he used to be. She has one of his baby curls

put away in a box, and it is red--or at least reddish!

Since she discovered that I know him, I have risen very much in her

opinion. Knowing a member of the Pendleton family is the best

introduction one can have at Lock Willow. And the cream of the whole

family is Master Jervis--I am pleased to say that Julia belongs to an

inferior branch.

The farm gets more and more entertaining. I rode on a hay wagon

yesterday. We have three big pigs and nine little piglets, and you

should see them eat. They are pigs! We've oceans of little baby

chickens and ducks and turkeys and guinea fowls. You must be mad to

live in a city when you might live on a farm.

It is my daily business to hunt the eggs. I fell off a beam in the

barn loft yesterday, while I was trying to crawl over to a nest that

the black hen has stolen. And when I came in with a scratched knee,

Mrs. Semple bound it up with witch-hazel, murmuring all the time,

'Dear! Dear! It seems only yesterday that Master Jervie fell off that

very same beam and scratched this very same knee.' The scenery around here is perfectly beautiful. There's a valley and a

river and a lot of wooded hills, and way in the distance a tall blue

mountain that simply melts in your mouth.

We churn twice a week; and we keep the cream in the spring house which

is made of stone with the brook running underneath. Some of the

farmers around here have a separator, but we don't care for these

new-fashioned ideas. It may be a little harder to separate the cream

in pans, but it's sufficiently better to pay. We have six calves; and

I've chosen the names for all of them.




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