dear daddy,

very busy time--commencement in ten days, examinations tomorrow;

lots of studying, lots of packing, and the outdoor world so lovely

that it hurts you to stay inside.

but never mind, vacation's coming. julia is going abroad this summer--

it makes the fourth time. no doubt about it, daddy, goods are not

distributed evenly. sallie, as usual, goes to the adirondacks.

and what do you think i am going to do? you may have three guesses.

lock willow? wrong. the adirondacks with sallie? wrong.

(i'll never attempt that again; i was discouraged last year.)

can't you guess anything else? you're not very inventive.

i'll tell you, daddy, if you'll promise not to make a lot of objections.

i warn your secretary in advance that my mind is made up.

i am going to spend the summer at the seaside with a mrs. charles

paterson and tutor her daughter who is to enter college in the autumn.

i met her through the mcbrides, and she is a very charming woman.

i am to give lessons in english and latin to the younger daughter,

too, but i shall have a little time to myself, and i shall be earning

fifty dollars a month! doesn't that impress you as a perfectly

exorbitant amount? she offered it; i should have blushed to ask

for more than twenty-five.

i finish at magnolia (that's where she lives) the first of september,

and shall probably spend the remaining three weeks at lock willow--

i should like to see the semples again and all the friendly animals.

how does my programme strike you, daddy?

i am getting quite independent, you see.

you have put me on my feet and i think i can almost walk alone by now.

princeton commencement and our examinations exactly coincide--

which is an awful blow. sallie and i did so want to get away in time

for it, but of course that is utterly impossible.

goodbye, daddy. have a nice summer and come back in the autumn

rested and ready for another year of work. (that's what you ought

to be writing to me!) i haven't any idea what you do in the summer,

or how you amuse yourself. i can't visualize your surroundings.

do you play golf or hunt or ride horseback or just sit in the sun

and meditate?

anyway, whatever it is, have a good time and don't forget judy.

10th june

dear daddy,

this is the hardest letter i ever wrote, but i have decided

what i must do, and there isn't going to be any turning back.

it is very sweet and generous and dear of you to wish to send me

to europe this summer--for the moment i was intoxicated by the idea;

but sober second thoughts said no. it would be rather illogical of me

to refuse to take your money for college, and then use it instead

just for amusement! you mustn't get me used to too many luxuries.

one doesn't miss what one has never had; but it's awfully hard

going without things after one has commenced thinking they are his--

hers (english language needs another pronoun) by natural right.

living with sallie and julia is an awful strain on my stoical philosophy.

they have both had things from the time they were babies;

they accept happiness as a matter of course. the world, they think,

owes them everything they want. maybe the world does--in any case,

it seems to acknowledge the debt and pay up. but as for me,

it owes me nothing, and distinctly told me so in the beginning.

i have no right to borrow on credit, for there will come a time when the

world will repudiate my claim.

i seem to be floundering in a sea of metaphor--but i hope you

grasp my meaning? anyway, i have a very strong feeling that the

only honest thing for me to do is to teach this summer and begin

to support myself.

magnolia,

four days later

i'd got just that much written, when--what do you think happened?

the maid arrived with master jervie's card. he is going abroad

too this summer; not with julia and her family, but entirely by

himself i told him that you had invited me to go with a lady who is

chaperoning a party of girls. he knows about you, daddy. that is,

he knows that my father and mother are dead, and that a kind gentleman

is sending me to college; i simply didn't have the courage to tell

him about the john grier home and all the rest. he thinks that you

are my guardian and a perfectly legitimate old family friend.

i have never told him that i didn't know you--that would seem

too queer!

anyway, he insisted on my going to europe. he said that it

was a necessary part of my education and that i mustn't think

of refusing. also, that he would be in paris at the same time,

and that we would run away from the chaperon occasionally

and have dinner together at nice, funny, foreign restaurants.

well, daddy, it did appeal to me! i almost weakened; if he hadn't

been so dictatorial, maybe i should have entirely weakened.

i can be enticed step by step, but i won't be forced. he said i

was a silly, foolish, irrational, quixotic, idiotic, stubborn child

(those are a few of his abusive adjectives; the rest escape me),

and that i didn't know what was good for me; i ought to let older

people judge. we almost quarrelled--i am not sure but that we

entirely did!

in any case, i packed my trunk fast and came up here. i thought

i'd better see my bridges in flames behind me before i finished

writing to you. they are entirely reduced to ashes now.

here i am at cliff top (the name of mrs. paterson's cottage) with my

trunk unpacked and florence (the little one) already struggling

with first declension nouns. and it bids fair to be a struggle!

she is a most uncommonly spoiled child; i shall have to teach

her first how to study--she has never in her life concentrated

on anything more difficult than ice-cream soda water.

we use a quiet corner of the cliffs for a schoolroom--mrs. paterson wishes

me to keep them out of doors--and i will say that i find it difficult

to concentrate with the blue sea before me and ships a-sailing by!

and when i think i might be on one, sailing off to foreign lands--

but i won't let myself think of anything but latin grammar.

the prepositions a or ab, absque, coram, cum, de e or ex,

prae, pro, sine, tenus, in, subter, sub and super govern the ablative.

so you see, daddy, i am already plunged into work with my eyes

persistently set against temptation. don't be cross with me,

please, and don't think that i do not appreciate your kindness,

for i do--always--always. the only way i can ever repay you

is by turning out a very useful citizen (are women citizens?

i don't suppose they are.) anyway, a very useful person. and when you

look at me you can say, `i gave that very useful person to the world.'

that sounds well, doesn't it, daddy? but i don't wish to mislead you.

the feeling often comes over me that i am not at all remarkable;

it is fun to plan a career, but in all probability i shan't turn

out a bit different from any other ordinary person. i may end by

marrying an undertaker and being an inspiration to him in his work.

yours ever,

judy