Unto you greetings and salutation and worship, you dear, sweet little
rightly-named Joy! I can see you now almost as vividly as I saw you that
night when you sat flashing and beaming upon those sombre swallow-tails.
“Fair as a star when only one
Is shining in the sky.”
Oh, you were indeed the only one--there wasn't even the remotest chance
of competition with you, dear! Ah, you are a decoration, you little
witch!
The idea of your house going to the wanton expense of a flower
garden!--aren't you enough? And what do you want to go and discourage
the other flowers for? Is that the right spirit? is it considerate? is
it kind? How do you suppose they feel when you come around--looking
the way you look? And you so pink and sweet and dainty and lovely and
supernatural? Why, it makes them feel embarrassed and artificial, of
course; and in my opinion it is just as pathetic as it can be. Now then
you want to reform--dear--and do right.
Well certainly you are well off, Joy:
3 bantams;
3 goldfish;
3 doves;
6 canaries;
2 dogs;
1 cat;
All you need, now, to be permanently beyond the reach of want, is one
more dog--just one more good, gentle, high principled, affectionate,
loyal dog who wouldn't want any nobler service than the golden
privilege of lying at your door, nights, and biting everything that came
along--and I am that very one, and ready to come at the dropping of a
hat.
Do you think you could convey my love and thanks to your “daddy” and
Owen Seaman and those other oppressed and down-trodden subjects of
yours, you darling small tyrant?