P. S. On reading this over, I find that it isn’t all Stevenson.
There are one or two glancing references to Master Jervie.
September 10th.
_Dear Daddy_,
He has gone, and we are missing him! When you get accustomed to
people or places or ways of living, and then have them suddenly
snatched away, it does leave an awfully empty, gnawing sort of
sensation. I’m finding Mrs. Semple’s conversation pretty unseasoned
food.
College opens in two weeks and I shall be glad to begin work again.
I have worked quite a lot this summer though--six short stories and
seven poems. Those I sent to the magazines all came back with the
most courteous promptitude. But I don’t mind. It’s good practice.
Master Jervie read them--he brought in the mail, so I couldn’t help
his knowing--and he said they were _dreadful_. They showed that I
didn’t have the slightest idea of what I was talking about. (Master
Jervie doesn’t let politeness interfere with truth.) But the last
one I did--just a little sketch laid in college--he said wasn’t
bad; and he had it typewritten, and I sent it to a magazine.
They’ve had it two weeks; maybe they’re thinking it over.
You should see the sky! There’s the queerest orange-colored light
over everything. We’re going to have a storm.
* * * * *
It commenced just that moment with drops as big as quarters and all
the shutters banging. I had to run to close windows, while Carrie
flew to the attic with an armful of milk pans to put under the
places where the roof leaks--and then, just as I was resuming my
pen, I remembered that I’d left a cushion and rug and hat and
Matthew Arnold’s poems under a tree in the orchard, so I dashed out
to get them, all quite soaked. The red cover of the poems had run
into the inside; “Dover Beach” in the future will be washed by pink
waves.
A storm is awfully disturbing in the country. You are always having
to think of so many things that are out of doors and getting
spoiled.
Thursday.
Daddy! Daddy! What do you think? The postman has just come with two
letters.
1st.--My story is accepted. $50.
_Alors!_ I’m an AUTHOR.
2d.--A letter from the college secretary. I’m to have a scholarship
for two years that will cover board and tuition. It was founded by
an alumna for “marked proficiency in English with general excellency
in other lines.” And I’ve won it! I applied for it before I left,
but I didn’t have an idea I’d get it, on account of my Freshman
bad work in math. and Latin. But it seems I’ve made it up. I am
awfully glad, Daddy, because now I won’t be such a burden to you.
The monthly allowance will be all I’ll need, and maybe I can earn
that with writing or tutoring or something.
I’m _crazy_ to go back and begin work.
Yours ever,