Then he knocked and said, `Miss Abbott,’ and I went in and the door closed behind me.

It was so dim coming in from the brightly lighted hall that for a moment I could scarcely make out anything; then I saw a big easy chair before the fire and a shining tea table with a smaller chair beside it.  And I realized that a man was sitting in the big chair propped up by pillows with a rug over his knees.  Before I could stop him he rose—­rather shakily—­and steadied himself by the back of the chair and just looked at me without a word.  And then—­ and then—­I saw it was you!  But even with that I didn’t understand.  I thought Daddy had had you come there to meet me or a surprise.

Then you laughed and held out your hand and said, `Dear little Judy, couldn’t you guess that I was Daddy-Long-Legs?’

In an instant it flashed over me.  Oh, but I have been stupid!  A hundred little things might have told me, if I had had any wits.  I wouldn’t make a very good detective, would I, Daddy?  Jervie?  What must I call you?  Just plain Jervie sounds disrespectful, and I can’t be disrespectful to you!

It was a very sweet half hour before your doctor came and sent me away.  I was so dazed when I got to the station that I almost took a train for St Louis.  And you were pretty dazed, too.  You forgot to give me any tea.  But we’re both very, very happy, aren’t we?  I drove back to Lock Willow in the dark but oh, how the stars were shining!  And this morning I’ve been out with Colin visiting all the places that you and I went to together, and remembering what you said and how you looked.  The woods today are burnished bronze and the air is full of frost.  It’s climbing weather.  I wish you were here to climb the hills with me.  I am missing you dreadfully, Jervie dear, but it’s a happy kind of missing; we’ll be together soon.  We belong to each other now really and truly, no make-believe.  Doesn’t it seem queer for me to belong to someone at last?  It seems very, very sweet.

And I shall never let you be sorry for a single instant.

Yours, for ever and ever,
Judy

PS.  This is the first love-letter I ever wrote.  Isn’t it funny that I know how?