dear daddy-long-legs,

your secretary man has just written to me saying that mr. smith

prefers that i should not accept mrs. mcbride's invitation,

but should return to lock willow the same as last summer.

why, why, why, daddy?

you don't understand about it. mrs. mcbride does want me,

really and truly. i'm not the least bit of trouble in the house.

i'm a help. they don't take up many servants, and sallie an i can do lots

of useful things. it's a fine chance for me to learn housekeeping.

every woman ought to understand it, an i only know asylum-keeping.

there aren't any girls our age at the camp, and mrs. mcbride wants

me for a companion for sallie. we are planning to do a lot of

reading together. we are going to read all of the books for next

year's english and sociology. the professor said it would be a great

help if we would get our reading finished in the summer; and it's

so much easier to remember it if we read together and talk it over.

just to live in the same house with sallie's mother is an education.

she's the most interesting, entertaining, companionable, charming woman

in the world; she knows everything. think how many summers i've

spent with mrs. lippett and how i'll appreciate the contrast.

you needn't be afraid that i'll be crowding them, for their house is

made of rubber. when they have a lot of company, they just sprinkle

tents about in the woods and turn the boys outside. it's going to be

such a nice, healthy summer exercising out of doors every minute.

jimmie mcbride is going to teach me how to ride horseback and paddle

a canoe, and how to shoot and--oh, lots of things i ought to know.

it's the kind of nice, jolly, care-free time that i've never had;

and i think every girl deserves it once in her life. of course i'll

do exactly as you say, but please, please let me go, daddy. i've never

wanted anything so much.

this isn't jerusha abbott, the future great author, writing to you.

it's just judy--a girl.