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September 25th.
_Dear Daddy-Long-Legs_,
Behold me--a Sophomore! I came up last Friday, sorry to leave Lock
Willow, but glad to see the campus again. It _is_ a pleasant
sensation to come back to something familiar. I am beginning to feel
at home in college, and in command of the situation; I am beginning,
in fact, to feel at home in the world--as though I really belonged
in it and had not just crept in on sufferance.
I don’t suppose you understand in the least what I am trying to say.
A person important enough to be a Trustee can’t appreciate the
feelings of a person unimportant enough to be a foundling.
And now, Daddy, listen to this. Whom do you think I am rooming with?
Sallie McBride and Julia Rutledge Pendleton. It’s the truth. We
have a study and three little bedrooms--_voila!_
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Sallie and I decided last spring that we should like to room
together, and Julia made up her mind to stay with Sallie--why,
I can’t imagine, for they are not a bit alike; but the Pendletons
are naturally conservative and inimical (fine word!) to change.
Anyway, here we are. Think of Jerusha Abbott, late of the John Grier
Home for Orphans, rooming with a Pendleton. This is a democratic
country.
Sallie is running for class president, and unless all signs fail,
she is going to be elected. Such an atmosphere of intrigue--you
should see what politicians we are! Oh, I tell you, Daddy, when we
women get our rights, you men will have to look alive in order to
keep yours. Election comes next Saturday, and we’re going to have a
torchlight procession in the evening, no matter who wins.
I am beginning chemistry, a most unusual study. I’ve never seen
anything like it before. Molecules and Atoms are the material
employed, but I’ll be in a position to discuss them more definitely
next month.