LOCK WILLOW
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 — for ever 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 for ever.
Judy Abbott, A.B.
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