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 could 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 ahead of time 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 does n’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 has n’t rained for weeks and weeks.
This letter sounds as though I had hydrophobia, but I have n’t. I just want some family.
Good-by, my dearest Daddy.