Good night.
Here is a picture of the one fish I caught.
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 be a school-teacher.
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,
Judy
PS. On reading this over, I find that it isn't all Stevenson. There
are one or two glancing references to Master Jervie.