Also a letter from Sallie.  She wants me to come to their camp for two weeks in September.  Must I ask your permission, or haven’t I yet arrived at the place where I can do as I please?  Yes, I am sure I have—­I’m a Senior, you know.  Having worked all summer, I feel like taking a little healthful recreation; I want to see the Adirondacks; I want to see Sallie; I want to see Sallie’s brother—­ he’s going to teach me to canoe—­and (we come to my chief motive, which is mean) I want Master Jervie to arrive at Lock Willow and find me not there.

I must show him that he can’t dictate to me.  No one can dictate to me but you, Daddy—­and you can’t always!  I’m off for the woods. 
Judy

CampMCBRIDE,
6th September

Dear Daddy,

Your letter didn’t come in time (I am pleased to say).  If you wish your instructions to be obeyed, you must have your secretary transmit them in less than two weeks.  As you observe, I am here, and have been for five days.

The woods are fine, and so is the camp, and so is the weather, and so are the McBrides, and so is the whole world.  I’m very happy!

There’s Jimmie calling for me to come canoeing.  Goodbye—­sorry to have disobeyed, but why are you so persistent about not wanting me to play a little?  When I’ve worked all the summer I deserve two weeks.  You are awfully dog-in-the-mangerish.

However—­I love you still, Daddy, in spite of all your faults. 
                                           Judy

3rd October
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.