April 4th.
_Dear Daddy_,
Do you observe the postmark? Sallie and I are embellishing Lock
Willow with our presence during the Easter vacation. We decided that
the best thing we could do with our ten days was to come where it is
quiet. Our nerves had got to the point where they wouldn’t stand
another meal in Fergussen. Dining in a room with four hundred girls
is an ordeal when you are tired. There is so much noise that you
can’t hear the girls across the table speak unless they make their
hands into a megaphone and shout. That is the truth.
We are tramping over the hills and reading and writing, and having a
nice, restful time. We climbed to the top of “Sky Hill” this morning
where Master Jervie and I once cooked supper--it doesn’t seem
possible that it was nearly two years ago. I could still see the
place where the smoke of our fire blackened the rock. It is funny
how certain places get connected with certain people, and you never
go back without thinking of them. I was quite lonely without
him--for two minutes.
What do you think is my latest activity, Daddy? You will begin to
believe that I am incorrigible--I am writing a book. I started it
three weeks ago and am eating it up in chunks. I’ve caught the
secret. Master Jervie and that editor man were right; you are most
convincing when you write about the things you know. And this time
it is about something that I do know--exhaustively. Guess where
it’s laid? In the John Grier Home! And it’s good, Daddy,
I actually believe it is--just about the tiny little things that
happened every day. I’m a realist now. I’ve abandoned romanticism;
I shall go back to it later though, when my own adventurous future
begins.
This new book is going to get itself finished--and published! You
see if it doesn’t. If you just want a thing hard enough and keep on
trying, you do get it in the end. I’ve been trying for four years
to get a letter from you--and I haven’t given up hope yet.
Good-by, Daddy dear,
(I like to call you Daddy dear; it’s so alliterative.)
Affectionately,