P. S. The postman arrives with some more news. We are to expect
Master Jervie on Friday next to spend a week. That’s a very
pleasant prospect--only I am afraid my poor book will suffer. Master
Jervie is very demanding.
August 27th.
_Dear Daddy-Long-Legs_,
Where are you, I wonder?
I never know what part of the world you are in, but I hope you’re
not in New York during this awful weather. I hope you’re on a
mountain peak (but not in Switzerland; somewhere nearer) looking at
the snow and thinking about me. Please be thinking about me. I’m
quite lonely and I want to be thought about. Oh, Daddy, I wish I
knew you! Then when we were unhappy we could cheer each other up.
I don’t think I can stand much more of Lock Willow. I’m thinking of
moving. Sallie is going to do settlement work in Boston next winter.
Don’t you think it would be nice for me to go with her, then we
could have a studio together? I could write while she _settled_ and
we could be together in the evenings. Evenings are very long when
there’s no one but the Semples and Carrie and Amasai to talk to.
I know ahead of time that you won’t like my studio idea. I can read
your secretary’s letter now:
“_Miss Jerusha Abbott._
“DEAR MADAM,
“Mr. Smith prefers that you remain at Lock Willow.
“Yours truly,
“ELMER H. GRIGGS”.
I hate your secretary. I am certain that a man named Elmer H. Griggs
must be horrid. But truly, Daddy, I think I shall have to go to
Boston. I can’t stay here. If something doesn’t happen soon,
I shall throw myself into the silo pit out of sheer desperation.
Mercy! but it’s hot. All the grass is burnt up and the brooks are
dry and the roads are dusty. It hasn’t rained for weeks and weeks.
This letter sounds as though I had hydrophobia, but I haven’t.
I just want some family.
Good-by, my dearest Daddy.