Saturday night.
_Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs_,
I’ve only just come and I’m not unpacked, but I can’t wait to tell
you how much I like farms. This is a heavenly, heavenly, _heavenly_
spot! The house is square like this:
[Illustration]
And _old_. A hundred years or so. It has a veranda on the side which
I can’t draw and a sweet porch in front. The picture really doesn’t
do it justice--those things that look like feather dusters are maple
trees, and the prickly ones that border the drive are murmuring
pines and hemlocks. It stands on the top of a hill and looks way off
over miles of green meadows to another line of hills.
[Illustration]
That is the way Connecticut goes, in a series of Marcelle waves; and
Lock Willow Farm is just on the crest of one wave. The barns used to
be across the road where they obstructed the view, but a kind flash
of lightning came from heaven and burnt them down.
The people are Mr. and Mrs. Semple and a hired girl and two hired
men. The hired people eat in the kitchen, and the Semples and Judy
in the dining-room. We had ham and eggs and biscuits and honey and
jelly-cake and pie and pickles and cheese and tea for supper--and a
great deal of conversation. I have never been so entertaining in my
life; everything I say appears to be funny. I suppose it is, because
I’ve never been in the country before, and my questions are backed
by an all-inclusive ignorance.
The room marked with a cross is not where the murder was committed,
but the one that I occupy. It’s big and square and empty, with
adorable old-fashioned furniture and windows that have to be propped
up on sticks and green shades trimmed with gold that fall down if
you touch them. And a big square mahogany table--I’m going to spend
the summer with my elbows spread out on it, writing a novel.
Oh, Daddy, I’m so excited! I can’t wait till daylight to explore.
It’s 8.30 now, and I am about to blow out my candle and try to go
to sleep. We rise at five. Did you ever know such fun? I can’t
believe this is really Judy. You and the Good Lord give me more than
I deserve. I must be a very, very, _very_ good person to pay. I’m
going to be. You’ll see.
Good night,