Daddy Long Legs

Yours ever,

Judy

PS. The chamber-maid in our corridor wears blue checked gingham

aprons. I am going to get her some brown ones instead, and sink the

blue ones in the bottom of the lake. I have a reminiscent chill every

time I look at them.

17th November

Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

Such a blight has fallen over my literary career. I don't know whether

to tell you or not, but I would like some sympathy--silent sympathy,

please; don't re-open the wound by referring to it in your next letter.

I've been writing a book, all last winter in the evenings, and all the

summer when I wasn't teaching Latin to my two stupid children. I just

finished it before college opened and sent it to a publisher. He kept

it two months, and I was certain he was going to take it; but yesterday

morning an express parcel came (thirty cents due) and there it was back

again with a letter from the publisher, a very nice, fatherly

letter--but frank! He said he saw from the address that I was still at

college, and if I would accept some advice, he would suggest that I put

all of my energy into my lessons and wait until I graduated before

beginning to write. He enclosed his reader's opinion. Here it is:

'Plot highly improbable. Characterization exaggerated. Conversation

unnatural. A good deal of humour but not always in the best of taste.

Tell her to keep on trying, and in time she may produce a real book.'

Not on the whole flattering, is it, Daddy? And I thought I was making

a notable addition to American literature. I did truly. I was

planning to surprise you by writing a great novel before I graduated.

I collected the material for it while I was at Julia's last Christmas.

But I dare say the editor is right. Probably two weeks was not enough

in which to observe the manners and customs of a great city.

I took it walking with me yesterday afternoon, and when I came to the

gas house, I went in and asked the engineer if I might borrow his

furnace. He politely opened the door, and with my own hands I chucked

it in. I felt as though I had cremated my only child!

I went to bed last night utterly dejected; I thought I was never going

to amount to anything, and that you had thrown away your money for

nothing. But what do you think? I woke up this morning with a

beautiful new plot in my head, and I've been going about all day

planning my characters, just as happy as I could be. No one can ever

accuse me of being a pessimist! If I had a husband and twelve children

swallowed by an earthquake one day, I'd bob up smilingly the next

morning and commence to look for another set.