Affectionately,
Judy.
P. S. I ’ve just had an awful thought. Have you a butler? I ’m afraid of butlers, and if one opens the door I shall faint upon the step. What can I say to him? You did n’t tell me your name. Shall I ask for Mr. Smith?
Thursday Morning.
My very dearest Master-Jervie-Daddy-Long-Legs-Pendleton-Smith,
Did you sleep last night? I did n’t. Not a single wink. I was too amazed and excited and bewildered and happy. I don’t believe I ever shall sleep again—or eat either. But I hope you slept; you must, you know, because then you will get well faster and can come to me.
Dear Man, I can’t bear to think how ill you ’ve been—and all the time I never knew it. When the doctor came down yesterday to put me in the cab, he told me that for three days they gave you up. Oh, dearest, if that had happened, the light would have gone out of the world for me. I suppose that some day—in the far future—one of us must leave the other; but at least we shall have had our happiness and there will be memories to live with.
I meant to cheer you up—and instead I have to cheer myself. For in spite of being happier than I ever dreamed I could be, I ’m also soberer. The fear that something may happen to you rests like a shadow on my heart. Always before I could be frivolous and care-free and unconcerned, because I had nothing precious to lose. But now—I shall have a Great Big Worry all the rest of my life. Whenever you are away from me I shall be thinking of all the automobiles that can run over you, or the sign-boards that can fall on your head or the dreadful, squirmy germs that you may be swallowing. My peace of mind is gone forever—but anyway, I never cared much for just plain peace.
THE IDENTITY OF DADDY-LONG-LEGS IS ESTABLISHED.