June 19th.
_Dear Daddy-Long-Legs_,
I’m educated! My diploma is in the bottom bureau drawer with my two
best dresses. Commencement was as usual, with a few showers at vital
moments. Thank you for your rosebuds. They were lovely. Master
Jervie and Master Jimmie both gave me roses, too, but I left theirs
in the bath tub and carried yours in the class procession.
Here I am at Lock Willow for the summer--forever maybe. The board is
cheap; the surroundings quiet and conducive to a literary life. What
more does a struggling author wish? I am mad about my book. I think
of it every waking moment, and dream of it at night. All I want is
peace and quiet and lots of time to work (interspersed with
nourishing meals).
Master Jervie is coming up for a week or so in August, and Jimmie
McBride is going to drop in sometime through the summer. He’s
connected with a bond house now, and goes about the country selling
bonds to banks. He’s going to combine the “Farmers’ National” at
the Corners and me on the same trip.
You see that Lock Willow isn’t entirely lacking in society. I’d be
expecting to have you come motoring through--only I know now that
that is hopeless. When you wouldn’t come to my commencement, I tore
you from my heart and buried you forever.