There is n’t much of any farm news. The animals are all in the best of health. The pigs are unusually fat, the cows seem contented and the hens are laying well. Are you interested in poultry? If so, let me recommend that invaluable little work, “200 Eggs per Hen per Year.” I am thinking of starting an incubator next spring and raising broilers. You see I ’m settled at Lock Willow permanently. I have decided to stay until I ’ve written 114 novels like Anthony Trollope’s mother. Then I shall have completed my life work and can retire and travel.
Mr. James McBride spent last Sunday with us. Fried chicken and ice-cream for dinner, both of which he appeared to appreciate. I was awfully glad to see him; he brought a momentary reminder that the world at large exists. Poor Jimmie is having a hard time peddling his bonds. The Farmers’ National at the Corners would n’t have anything to do with them in spite of the fact that they pay six per cent. interest and sometimes seven. I think he ’ll end by going home to Worcester and taking a job in his father’s factory. He ’s too open and confiding and kind-hearted ever to make a successful financier. But to be the manager of a flourishing overall factory is a very desirable position, don’t you think? Just now he turns up his nose at overalls, but he ’ll come to them.
I hope you appreciate the fact that this is a long letter from a person with writer’s cramp. But I still love you, Daddy dear, and I ’m very happy. With beautiful scenery all about, and lots to eat and a comfortable four-post bed and a ream of blank paper and a pint of ink—what more does one want in the world?
Yours, as always,
Judy.
P. S. 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.
August 27th.
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.