Daddy Long Legs

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.