I ’m going to be good and sweet and kind to everybody because I ’m so happy. And this summer I ’m going to write and write and write and begin to be a great author. Is n’t that an exalted stand to take? Oh, I ’m developing a beautiful character! It droops a bit under cold and frost, but it does grow fast when the sun shines.
That ’s the way with everybody. I don’t agree with the theory that adversity and sorrow and disappointment develop moral strength. The happy people are the ones who are bubbling over with kindliness. I have no faith in misanthropes. (Fine word! Just learned it.) You are not a misanthrope are you, Daddy?
I started to tell you about the campus. I wish you ’d come for a little visit and let me walk you about and say:
“That is the library. This is the gas plant, Daddy dear. The Gothic building on your left is the gymnasium, and the Tudor Romanesque beside it is the new infirmary.”
Oh, I ’m fine at showing people about. I ’ve done it all my life at the asylum, and I ’ve been doing it all day here. I have honestly.
And a Man, too!
That ’s a great experience. I never talked to a man before (except occasional Trustees, and they don’t count). Pardon, Daddy. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings when I abuse Trustees. I don’t consider that you really belong among them. You just tumbled onto the Board by chance. The Trustee, as such, is fat and pompous and benevolent. He pats one on the head and wears a gold watch chain.
That looks like a June bug, but is meant to be a portrait of any Trustee except you.
However—to resume: