Good night.
Here is a picture of the one fish I caught.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_Ship ahoy, Cap’n Long-Legs!_
Avast! Belay! Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum. Guess what I’m
reading? Our conversation these past two days has been nautical and
piratical. Isn’t “Treasure Island” fun? Did you ever read it, or
wasn’t it written when you were a boy? Stevenson only got thirty
pounds for the serial rights--I don’t believe it pays to be a great
author. Maybe I’ll teach school.
Excuse me for filling my letters so full of Stevenson; my mind is
very much engaged with him at present. He comprises Lock Willow’s
library.
I’ve been writing this letter for two weeks, and I think it’s
about long enough. Never say, Daddy, that I don’t give details.
I wish you were here, too; we’d all have such a jolly time
together. I like my different friends to know each other. I wanted
to ask Mr. Pendleton if he knew you in New York--I should think he
might; you must move in about the same exalted social circles, and
you are both interested in reforms and things--but I couldn’t, for
I don’t know your real name.
It’s the silliest thing I ever heard of, not to know your name.
Mrs. Lippett warned me that you were eccentric. I should think so!
Affectionately,