Chapter 4
26th September
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
It feels good to be back at college again, a fresh start and an upper classman. Our study is better than ever this year—faces the South with two huge windows and oh! So furnished. Julia, with an unlimited allowance, arrived two days early and was attacked with a fever for settling.
We have new wall paper and oriental rugs and mahogany chairs—not painted mahogany which made us sufficiently happy last year, but real. It’s very gorgeous, but I don’t feel as though I belonged in it; I’m nervous all the time for fear I’ll get an ink spot in the wrong place.
And, Daddy, I found your letter waiting for me—pardon me—I mean your secretary’s.
Will you kindly put into words a logical motive why I should not agree to that scholarship? Your objection is beyond my understanding. Besides, what good will it does to you if you object? For your kind information, I’ve already accepted it and my decision is irrevocable. I know that sounds a little impolite, but I don’t mean it so. Trust me.
I believe you feel that when you set out to educate me, you’d like to finish the work, and put an orderly period, in the shape of a diploma, at the end.
But for once put yourself in my shoes. I shall owe my education to you just as much as though I let you pay for the whole of it, but I won’t be quite so much in somebody’s debt. I can make out that you don’t want your favour to be returned in the form of money, but on the other hand, I am going to return it, if I’ll be able to; and with this scholarship in my hand, i guess it makes it so much easier. I thought I might have to spend the rest of my life in paying my debts, but now I shall only have to spend one-half of the rest of it.
Look to the brighter side of it and I believe you’ll understand my situation and won’t get annoyed. I will accept the allowance still most appreciatively. It is the allowance that is needed to live up to Julia and her stuff! I wish that she had been reared to simpler tastes, or else that she were not my room-mate.
I think it isn’t much of a letter; I meant to have written a lot—but I feel pleased to say I’ve been stitching four window curtains and three portieres (I’m glad you can’t see the length of the stitches), and polishing a brass desk set with tooth powder (very uphill work), and sawing off picture wire with manicure scissors, and unpacking four boxes of books, and putting away two trunk full of clothes (Can you believe that Jerusha Abbott has two trunks full of clothes? But of course, she does!), welcoming back fifty dear friends in between.
I love the orientation day for it is a merry occasion!
Good night, Daddy dear, and don’t be bothered because your chick is wanting to score for herself. She’s budding up into a quite full of life little bird—with a very firm squawk and lots of gorgeous feathers (all due to you).
Affectionately,
Judy
30th September
Dear Daddy,
Is that scholarship still occupying a room in your mind? You are such an adamant, and immovable and irrational, and firm, and bull-doggish, and unable-to-see-other people’s-viewpoint, kind of man.
You desire that accepting favouritism from strangers is not what I should do.
Strangers!—And what are you to me, pray?
Is there anybody in the world whom I know less? I may not recognize you if I met you somewhere in the street. Now do you realize if you had been a wise, reasonable person and had written nice, encouraging fatherly letters to your little Judy, and had seen her rarely and patted her on the head, and had praised her for being such a good girl—Then, possibly, she wouldn’t have failed to follow your directions in your old age, but would have obeyed your slightest wish like an obedient daughter should.
Strangers indeed! You live in a glass house, Mr. Smith.
Adding more to the point, this isn’t an act of kindness; it’s a reward that I earned it by hard work. Besides, if nobody were capable enough of the scholarship, the committee wouldn’t have awarded it; some years they don’t. Also—there is no point of quarrelling with a man. Mr. Smith, you’ve got a sex devoid sense of reasoning. There are just two ways for a man to make him believe you: one must either be persuasive or be disagreeable. I scorn to persuasive men for what I wish. Thus, I must be disagreeable.
After keeping in mind all the pros and cons(while there were only pros and no cons), I hereby turn down, sir, your order to give up the scholarship; and are any more objections from your side, I won’t accept the periodical allowance either, rather impale myself into a panicky wreck tutoring brainless freshmen.
That is my ultimatum!
And above all I have an additional thought. If you are so terrified by the idea that by taking this scholarship I am going to take away someone’s right of being educated, I know a way out. You can educate some other little girl from the John Grier Home by applying the money that you would have spent on me. Well I believe that’s a good idea. Only, Daddy, educate the new girl as much as you choose, but please don’t like her any better than me.
Daddy, I give so little thought to the suggestions offered in your secretary’s letter, I hope he won’t be hurt. But I can’t help it if he is. He’s a ruined child, Daddy. I’ve meekly given in to his whims heretofore, but this time I intend to be determined.
Yours,
With a mind, Absolutely and Irreversibly
And World-without-End Made-up,
Jerusha Abbott
9th November
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I started down town today to buy a bottle of shoe blacking and some collars and the material for a new blouse and a jar of violet cream and a cake of Castile soap—all very necessary; I couldn’t be happy another day without them—and when I tried to pay the car fare, I found that I had left my purse in the pocket of my other coat. So I had to get out and take the next car, and was late for gymnasium.
It’s a dreadful thing to have no memory and two coats!
I have been invited by Julia Pendleton for the Christmas holidays. Now what do you have to say, Mr. Smith? Do you think it is odd? Fancy Jerusha Abbott, of the John Grier Home, sitting among the affluent. God knows why Julia wants me—I guess she is getting quite fond of me lately. Frankly, I very much fancy going to Sallie’s, but Julia asked me first, so if I intend to leave the college and go anywhere it must be to New York instead of to Worcester. The thought of meeting the Pendletons is rather dazzling, and also I need to get a lot of new clothes—so, Daddy dear, if you write that you would prefer having me hang about quietly at college, I will bow to your wishes with my natural sweet meekness.
The Life and Letters of Thomas Huxley occupy me at weird instances—it makes nice, light reading to pick up between times. Have you ever heard of an archaeopteryx? It’s a bird. And a stereognathus? Even I’m not sure, but I suppose it’s a missing link. I’ve just looked in the book. It’s a mesozoic mammal whose head is like a snake, ears like a dog, feet like a cow, tail like a lizard, wings like a swan and is covered with a nice soft fur like sweet little pussy cat.
I’ve chosen economics this year—very enlightening subject. After finishing it I’m going to opt for Charity and Reform; then, Mr. Trustee, I’ll know just how an orphan asylum should be run. I strongly believe that I’d make a marvellous voter if I had my rights. I turned twenty-one few days back. This is an extremely careless country to throw away such a truthful, cultured, reliable, intellectual citizen as I would be.
Yours always,
Judy
7th December
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I am grateful to you for permitting me to visit Julia—I take your silence as consent.
We’ve been in a social flurry for a while now! The Founder’s ball came last week—since only upper classmen are permitted, so this was our first time.
I asked Jimmie McBride to be my guest, and Sallie asked his room-mate at Princeton, who visited them last summer at their camp—an extremely polite man with red hair—and Julia invited a man from New York, who was not very exhilarating, but yes, socially impeccable. He is in some kind of association with the De la Mater Chichesters. Does this mean anything to you? It doesn’t enlighten me to any point.
However—our guests were in time for tea in the senior corridor, and then dashed down to the hotel for dinner. The hotel was so full that they slept in rows on the billiard tables, they say. Jimmie McBride says that the next time he is bidden to a social event in this college; he is going to bring one of their Adirondack tents and pitch it on the campus.
At seven-thirty they came back for the President’s reception and dance. Our functions commence early! We had the men’s cards all made out ahead of time, and after every dance, we’d leave them in groups, under the letter that stood for their names, so that they could be readily found by their next partners. I found Jimmie McBride a very difficult guest; he was sulky because he had only three dances with me. He said he was bashful about dancing with girls he didn’t know!
The following morning we had an exciting club concert—and guess who wrote the funny new song composed for the event? Yes, it’s true. She did. Oh, I tell you, Daddy, your little foundling is getting to be quite a famous person!
Anyway, our gay two days were of immense enjoyment, and I feel the men enjoyed it too. At first, the thought of facing a thousand girls disturbed some of the men; but they quickly got accustomed to it. Our two Princeton men had a terrific time—at least they courteously said they had, and we’ve been invited by them to their dance next spring. Please don’t object, Daddy dear, because we’ve already honoured their invitation.
The three of us, Julia and Sallie and I, got new dresses. It’ll be good if you’ll hear about them. Julia’s was cream satin and gold embroidery and she wore purple orchids. It was a dream and came from Paris, and cost a fortune.
Sallie’s was pale blue trimmed with Persian embroidery, and went marvellously with red hair. It didn’t cost quite a million, but was just as pretty as Julia’s.
Mine was pale pink crepe de chine trimmed with ecru lace and rose satin. And I carried crimson roses which J. McB. sent (Sallie having told him what colour to get). And we all wore satin slippers and silk stockings and chiffon scarfs to go with.
You must be deeply impressed by these millinery details.
Daddy, it is hard resisting thinking about what a pale life a man has to lead, when one reflects that chiffon and Venetian point and hand embroidery and Irish crochet are to him mere empty words. But on the other hand a woman—whether she takes interest in babies or microbes or husbands or poetry or servants or parallelograms or gardens or Plato or bridge—leaving everything behind is deeply and always interested in clothes.
However, to continue. I would love to tell you a top secret that I’ve recently discovered. And promise not to think me futile. Now listen:
I’m pretty.
I am, really. I’d be an awful idiot not to know it with three looking-glasses in the room.
20th December
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I’ve just a moment with me. Before catching the four-o’clock train I must attend two classes, pack a trunk and a suit-case, but I cannot leave without writing to you and letting you know that I am really thankful for my Christmas box.
I love the furs and the necklace and the Liberty scarf and the gloves and handkerchiefs and books and purse—and most importantly I love you! But you should not ruin me this way, Daddy. I’m only human—and a girl on top of it. And you expect me to keep my mind strictly fixed on a studious career, while you distract me with such worldly frivolities?
Now I strongly suspect as to which one of the John Grier Trustees used to send the Christmas tree and the Sunday yummy ice-cream. He always remained vague, but by his works I guess I know him now! You deserve happiness for the rest of your life for all the good things you do.
Goodbye, and a very merry Christmas.
Yours always,
Judy
11th January
I intended to send this letter from New York itself, but couldn’t as this city is quite an absorbing place.
What an interesting and illuminating time I had! But on the other hand I’m glad for not being a part of such a family! I am totally satisfied to have the John Grier Home for a background. Inspite of the flaws of my upbringing, there was never a sign of fakery. Now I’ve understood what people mean when they say they are weighed down by Things. That house had a crushing sham ambience. It was tough to take even a deep breath until I was on an express train coming back. The stuff there was carved and upholstered and stunning; there were elegantly dressed people, low-voiced and well brought-up, but Daddy, the fact is, I never heard one word of genuine conversation from the time we arrived until we left. I don’t feel an actual idea ever struck their mind.
Mrs. Pendleton’s brain was all the time occupied by jewels and dressmakers and social engagements. She did seem a different kind of mother from Mrs. McBride! If I ever marry and have a family, I’m going to make sure that it is exactly like the McBrides. I would never let any of my children grow into Pendletons even if all the money in the world is at stake. Maybe it isn’t polite to criticize people you’ve been visiting? If it isn’t, please excuse. This is very confidential, between you and me.
I just got a single chance to see Master Jervie when he called at tea time, and moreover no opportunity to speak to him alone. It wasn’t really pleasing after our nice time last summer. After staying there for a while, I realized one thing. He doesn’t really care much for his relatives—and it’s the same from their side! According to Julia’s mother he’s deranged. He’s a Socialist—except, thank Heaven, he doesn’t let his hair grow and wear red ties. She can’t imagine where he picked up his queer ideas; the family have been Church of England for generations. Julia’s mother says that he wastes his money on every sort of foolish institution, instead of spending it on such sensible things as yachts and automobiles and polo ponies. He does buy candy with it though! He sent Julia and me each a box for Christmas.
You know, I think I’ll be a Socialist, too. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Daddy? They’re quite different from Anarchists; they don’t believe in blowing people up. Probably I am one by rights; I belong to the proletariat. I haven’t determined yet just which kind I am going to be. I will look into the subject over Sunday, and declare my principles in my next.
I’m still quite gasping, nevertheless I am happy to be back at college and with my books—I believe that I really am a student; I find this environment of educational calm much more refreshing than New York. What a fulfilling kind of life college is! To be energetic psychologically, the books and learning and regular classes are just the sources, and if at all it starts getting on your nerves, there is always the gymnasium and outdoor athletics, and always ample of congenial friends who are in the same state of mind as you are. We spend a whole evening in nothing but talk—talk—talk—and go to bed with a very uplifted feeling, as though we had settled permanently some pressing world problems.
The great big pleasures are not the only thing that counts in life; it is all about making a great deal out of the little ones—I unveiled the true secret of happiness, Daddy, and that is to live in the now. Not to be forever regretting the past, or anticipating the future; but to enjoy to the fullest this very moment. It’s like farming. It is either extensive farming or intensive farming; well, I am going to have intensive living after this. I’m going to enjoy every second, and I’m going to know I’m enjoying it while I’m enjoying it. Most people live their life like a race. In order to reach some goal far away on the horizon, and in the heat of the going they get so breathless and panting that they lose all sight of the beautiful, tranquil country they are passing through; and then the first thing they know, they are old and worn out, and it doesn’t make any difference whether they’ve reached the goal or not. I’ve decided to sit down by the way and pile up a lot of little happiness, even if I never become a Great Author.
Did you ever know such a philosopheress as I am developing into?
Yours ever,
Judy
PS. It’s raining cats and dogs tonight. Two puppies and a kitten have just landed on the window-sill.
11th February
Dear D. L. L.,
Sorry for writing so short and please don’t feel hurt. It isn’t a letter; rather just a string to state that I’m soon going to write a proper letter when I’m over with the examinations. I don’t want to just pass, but pass WELL. I have a scholarship to live up to.
Yours,
Studying hard,
J. A.
5th March
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
President Cuyler made a speech this evening highlighting the issues of how modern generation is being frivolous and shallow. He focused on the point that we are losing the old ideals of earnest endeavour and true scholarship; and particularly is this falling-off noticeable in our disrespectful attitude towards organized authority. We no longer pay a seemly deference to our superiors.
I came away from chapel very sober.
Am I too familiar, Daddy? I should deal you with more solemnity and superiority. Yes, I’m sure I ought. I’ll begin again.
My Dear Mr. Smith,
You will be delighted to know that the result of my mid-year examinations was quite fruitful, and I’ll soon begin work in the new semester. I completed the course in qualitative analysis, so I am over with chemistry and entering upon the study of biology. I hesitated before opting for this subject, as I understand that we have to do the dissection of angleworms and frogs.
An extremely interesting and valuable lecture was given in the chapel last week upon Roman Remains in Southern France.
I am being regular to gymnasium these days. A proctor system has been devised, and failure to comply with the rules causes a great deal of inconvenience. The gymnasium is equipped with a very fine-looking swimming tank of cement and marble, which was gifted by a former graduate. My room-mate, Miss McBride, has given me her bathing-suit (it shrank so that she can no longer wear it) and my swimming lessons will begin shortly.
Bright sunshine and clouds interspersed with a few greeting snow-storms. The perfect weather. I and my companions enjoy the walks between classes.
Trusting, my dear Mr. Smith, hope you are in best of your spirits.
I remain,
Most cordially yours,
Jerusha Abbott
24th April
Dear Daddy,
Look! Here comes the spring again! The view of the campus is marvellous these days. I think you might come and look at it for yourself. Master Jervie visited us last Friday and I am very unhappy to say that he chose the most unfavourable time, for Sallie and Julia and I had a train to catch. Guess what where we were leaving for? To Princeton, remember? To attend the dance ball. If you please! I didn’t seek your permission, for I had a gut feeling that you might not agree to it. But it was totally usual; we had leave-of-absence from college, and Mrs. McBride chaperoned us. The time we spent was wonderful! But I shall have to omit details; they are too many and complicated.
Affectionately
Judy
15th May
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Is it good manners when you get into a car just to stare straight ahead and not see anybody else?
A very beautiful lady in a very beautiful velvet dress got into the car today, and without the slightest expression sat for fifteen minutes and looked at a sign advertising suspenders. It doesn’t seem polite to ignore everybody else as though you were the only important person present. The additional image is hereby reproduced for the first time. It looks like a spider on the end of a string, but it isn’t at all; it’s a picture of me learning to swim in the tank in the gymnasium.
The trainer hooks a rope into a ring in the back of my belt, and runs it through a pulley in the ceiling. It would be a perfect system if one had great confidence in the integrity of one’s trainer. I’m always frightened, though, that she will let the rope get slack, so I keep one anxious eye on her and swim with the other, and with this divided interest I do not make the improvement that I otherwise might.
Very miscellaneous weather we’re having of late. It was raining when I commenced and now the sun is shining. Sallie and I are going out to play tennis—thereby gaining exemption from Gym.
A week later
I should have completed this letter long ago, but I didn’t. You don’t mind, do you, Daddy, if I’m not very regular? I really do love to write to you; it gives me such a good feeling of having some family. Would you like me to tell you something? You are not the only man to whom I write letters. There are two others! I have been receiving amazing long letters this winter from Master Jervie (with typewritten envelopes so Julia won’t recognize the writing). Did you ever hear anything so shocking? And every week or so a much scribbled mail, usually on yellow tablet paper, arrives from Princeton. All of which I answer with business-like promptness. So you see—I am not so different from other girls—I get letters, too.
Have I told you that I have been elected a member of the Senior Dramatic Club? Very recherché organization. Only seventy-five members out of one thousand. Do you think as a consistent Socialist that I ought to belong?
Daddy, what do you think is the reason behind my current interest in sociology? The topic of my new article is Care of Dependent Children. The Professor being unbiased shuffled up his subjects, that fell to me.
Here goes the bell! I’ll post this as I pass the box.
Affectionately,
J.
4th June
Dear Daddy,
I am extremely busy Daddy. Examinations are commencing tomorrow; lots of studying and packing yet to be done. On top of it, staying inside the doors pains when the alfresco world is so beautiful.
But not to worry Daddy, vacations are near. It’s for the fourth time that Julia is going abroad. I wonder Daddy, why can’t everyone get equal share of good fate. Sallie, as usual, goes to the Adirondacks. And where do you think I am going? I’ll give you three chances. Lock Willow? Wrong. The Adirondacks with Sallie? Wrong again. (I’ll never attempt that again; I was discouraged last year.) Is it that hard for you to guess? You know what daddy? Imagination is not your cup of tea. It has always been my thing. I warn your secretary in advance that I’ve made up my mind, so there is no point of you objecting.
I have to tutor the daughter of a Mrs. Paterson who lives near seaside, so my summer will be spent there. I have to help her daughter enter into a college in autumn. She is a very attractive woman. The McBrides introduced me to her. I am going to have a very little time for myself as I will be teaching English and Latin to her younger daughter, too. This will earn me fifty dollars a month! She offered it; I would have blushed to ask for more than twenty-five.
Don’t you think it’s a perfectly excessive amount?
I might spend the last three weeks, before the college reopens, at Lock Willow, for I will finish at Magnolia (that’s where she lives) the first of September —I am looking forward to see the Semples again and all the welcoming flora and fauna.
Isn’t my schedule exciting, Daddy? I am getting somewhat self-governing. You made me stand on my feet and I think I can almost walk alone by now.
Princeton commencement and our examinations exactly coincide—and that’s a terrible blow. Sallie and I did so want to get away in time for it, but of course that is utterly impossible.
Goodbye, Daddy. Enjoy your summer to the fullest and come back in the autumn rested and prepared for another exciting year. (These are the lines you should have written to me!) I have no idea how you entertain yourself in the summer. It is hard to picture your ambience. Do you play golf or hunt or ride on horseback or just sit in the sun and meditate?
Well, no matter what, take pleasure in anything you do and don’t forget Judy.
10th June
Dear Daddy,
This is the toughest letter I ever wrote, but I have made up my mind, and there is no looking back now. You are very sweet and kind that you offered to send me to Europe this summer—for an instant I was influenced by the proposal; but sober second thoughts said no. Refusing to grant money for college, and then using it instead just for enjoyment sounds very illogical. I must not get habitual to so many luxuries. No one overlooks or what one never possessed; but life gets tough after one assumes the things to be one’s own by natural right.
Living with Sallie and Julia is an awful strain on my stoical philosophy. They have both had things from the time they were babies; they accept happiness as a matter of course. The World, they think, owes them everything they want. Maybe the World does—in any case, it seems to acknowledge the debt and pay up. But as for me, it owes me nothing, and distinctly told me so in the beginning.
I seem to be floundering in a sea of metaphor—but I hope you grasp my meaning? Anyhow, I believe that I should just do teaching this summer and begin to support myself.
Magnolia,
Four days later
I’ just wrote that much, when—what do you think happened? The maid arrived with Master Jervie’s card. Even he plans to go abroad this summer; but not with the other Pendletons, instead all by himself. I told him that I was invited by you to go with a lady who is chaperoning a party of girls. The best part is he knows about you, Daddy. This means, he knows that I am an orphan, and a kind gentleman has sent me to college; I couldn’t gather the courage to tell him about my background and the John Grier Home. He thinks that you are my guardian. I never let him know that I didn’t know you for it would seem too funny!
Anyway, even he forced me to plan my trip to Europe. He said that it was essential for my curriculum and that I shall not turn it down. At the same time, he would be in Paris and proposed to even run away from the chaperon some times and have dinner together at nice, amusing, foreign restaurants. He said I was a stupid, unwise, illogical, impracticable, senseless, obstinate child (those are a few of his abusive adjectives; the rest escape me), and that I didn’t know what was good for me; I ought to let older people judge. We almost quarrelled—I am not sure but that we entirely did!
Whatever the case may be, I jam-packed my trunk and came up here. Here I am at Cliff Top (the name of Mrs. Paterson’s cottage) with my trunk unpacked and Florence (the little one) already struggling with first declension nouns. And it bids fair to be a struggle! She is a most unusually infected child; I shall have to teach her first how to study—she has never in her life concentrated on anything more difficult than ice-cream soda water.
We use a quiet corner of the cliffs for a schoolroom—Mrs. Paterson wishes me to keep them out of doors—and I will say that I find it difficult to concentrate with the blue sea before me and ships a-sailing by!
So the crux is I am burdened with work and at the same time keeping myself away from enticement. I had always appreciated your benevolence, so please don’t be annoyed. There is only one way I can ever pay back your favour, that is, by becoming a Very Stable Citizen (Are women citizens? I don’t suppose they are.) Anyway, a Very Stable Person. And when you look at me you can say, ‘I gave that Stable Person to the world.’
That sounds well, doesn’t it, Daddy? But I don’t wish to mislead you. The feeling often comes over me that I am not at all remarkable; it is fun to plan a career, but in all probability I shan’t turn out a bit different from any other common person. I may end by marrying an undertaker and being an inspiration to him in his work.
Yours ever,
Judy
My window looks out on the loveliest landscape—ocean scape, rather—nothing but water and rocks.
19th August
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
My window looks out on the loveliest landscape—ocean scape, rather—nothing but water and rocks.
The summer is gone. My morning went by with English and algebra and Latin and my two silly girl students. I can’t say whether Marion will be able to make into a college, or continue after she gets there. And as for Florence, beauty without brains! She is futile. Does their stupidity matters in the least as so long as they are pretty? It is hard to resist thinking how much their husbands will be bored with their conversations, unless they are lucky enough to obtain stupid husbands. Well, that’s quite probable; the world seems to be filled with stupid men; I’ve met a number this summer.
In the afternoon we take a walk on the cliffs, or swim, if the tide is right. I can swim in salt water with the utmost ease you see my education is already being put to use!
I received a letter from Mr. Jervis Pendleton in Paris, rather a short concise letter; I suppose I’m not given absolution yet for turning down his advice. I also got a letter from Sallie. She wishes me to join her to their camp for a fortnight in September. Shall I ask for your permission, or haven’t I yet achieved the position where I can do whatever I want to? Yes, I am sure I have—After all I’m a Senior. After working for complete summer, I deserve a little favourable activity. I want to see the Adirondacks, Sallie, her family and (we come to my main aim, which is mean) I want Master Jervie to arrive at Lock Willow and find me not there.
I want him to make him believe that he can’t dictate to me. No one can, but you, Daddy—and that too not always! I’m off for the woods.
Judy
CAMP MCBRIDE,
6th September
Dear Daddy,
I am glad to say that your letter didn’t arrive in time. Your secretary must hand your directions in less than two weeks if you want them to be obeyed. Now you see, I have been here for five days.
The woods are great, and so is the camp, and so is the weather, and so are the McBrides, and so is the whole world. I’m very happy!
Jimmie is calling me to come go canoeing. Goodbye—sorry to disobey you daddy, but you so relentless about not wanting me to play a little. After working throughout the summer I ought to have two weeks. You are horribly dog-in-the-mangerish.
However—I love you still, Daddy, in spite of all your faults.
Judy
