Don’t you really think that I ought to be an artist instead of an author?
Vacation will be over in two days and I shall be glad to see the girls again. My tower is just a trifle lonely; when nine people occupy a house that was built for four hundred, they do rattle around a bit.
Eleven pages—poor Daddy, you must be tired! I meant this to be just a short little thank-you note—but when I get started I seem to have a ready pen.
Good-by, and thank you for thinking of me—I should be perfectly happy except for one little threatening cloud on the horizon. Examinations come in February.
Yours with love,
Judy.
P. S. Maybe it is n’t proper to send love? If it is n’t, please excuse. But I must love somebody and there ’s only you and Mrs. Lippett to choose between, so you see—you ’ll have to put up with it, Daddy dear, because I can’t love her.
On the Eve.
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
You should see the way this college is studying! We ’ve forgotten we ever had a vacation. Fifty-seven irregular verbs have I introduced to my brain in the past four days—I ’m only hoping they ’ll stay till after examinations.