dear daddy-long-legs,

back at college and a senior--also editor of the monthly.

it doesn't seem possible, does it, that so sophisticated a person,

just four years ago, was an inmate of the john grier home?

we do arrive fast in america!

what do you think of this? a note from master jervie directed

to lock willow and forwarded here. he's sorry, but he finds that

he can't get up there this autumn; he has accepted an invitation

to go yachting with some friends. hopes i've had a nice summer

and am enjoying the country.

and he knew all the time that i was with the mcbrides, for julia

told him so! you men ought to leave intrigue to women; you haven't

a light enough touch.

julia has a trunkful of the most ravishing new clothes--an evening

gown of rainbow liberty crepe that would be fitting raiment for the

angels in paradise. and i thought that my own clothes this year

were unprecedentedly (is there such a word?) beautiful. i copied

mrs. paterson's wardrobe with the aid of a cheap dressmaker,

and though the gowns didn't turn out quite twins of the originals,

i was entirely happy until julia unpacked. but now--i live to see paris!

dear daddy, aren't you glad you're not a girl? i suppose you think

that the fuss we make over clothes is too absolutely silly? it is.

no doubt about it. but it's entirely your fault.

did you ever hear about the learned herr professor who regarded

unnecessary adornment with contempt and favoured sensible,

utilitarian clothes for women? his wife, who was an obliging

creature, adopted `dress reform.' and what do you think he did?

he eloped with a chorus girl.

yours ever,

judy

ps. the chamber-maid in our corridor wears blue checked gingham aprons.

i am going to get her some brown ones instead, and sink the blue

ones in the bottom of the lake. i have a reminiscent chill every

time i look at them.