May 17
Dear Daddy Longlegs,
This letter will be very short.
My hand aches from taking notes in class and writing my novel.
Graduation is in three weeks.
I think you should come and introduce yourself to me.
Julia is inviting Jervie, and Sallie's inviting Jimmy.
But who can I invite?
Just you and Mrs. Lippett, and I don't want her here.
Please come. I'll hate you if you don't.
Yours, with love and writer's cramp,
Judy
June 19
Dear Daddy Longlegs,
I'm officially a college graduate!
My diploma is in the bottom drawer of my bureau here at Lock Willow with my two best dresses.
I was disappointed that you weren't at the graduation ceremony.
But thank you for the roses. They were lovely.
We were getting dressed for the ceremony when they arrived.
"Another box of flowers for you, Judy!" Sallie said.
"That makes three. One from Jimmy.
One from Jervis. And now this one."
"You get more flowers than anyone I know."
Julia peeked over my shoulder, trying to see who they were from.
I read the card and announced, "These are from my guardian, Mr. Smith."
"I still don't understand why Uncle Jervis sent you roses," Julia went on.
I smiled to myself. "Probably just because I'm your roommate."
"I'm Julia's roommate too, and he didn't send me flowers," Sallie said.
"Not that I need any more flowers.
Jimmy's are enough for me.
Whose flowers are you going to carry in the procession, Judy?"
"Oh, I hadn't thought about that."
Julia had already moved on to other things.
"I hate these horrible black caps and gowns we have to wear.
What's the point of a new dress if it's hidden?"
"I think we're all supposed to look alike." Sallie turned to me.
"Have you decided on your flowers?
We have to leave in a few minutes."
"Yes, I'll carry Mr. Smith's and put the others in some water in the bathtub."
And so, Mr. Smith, it was your roses that had the honor of accompanying me to graduation.
I only wish you had been there to see me.
I'm at the farm for the summer—maybe forever.
All I want are peace and quiet and lots of time to write.
And I have that here.
Jervie is coming for a week or so in August.
Jimmy McBride is going to drop by sometime this summer.
I wish you would arrive in your car, but I know that's a hopeless dream.
Sincerely yours,
Judy Abbott, B.A.
P.S. Aren't you proud to see bachelor of arts after my name?
It looks so official.
July 24
Dear Daddy Longlegs,
It's so much fun to work.
(Maybe you don't know that.
Do you even work at all?)
It's especially fun when you're doing something that makes you happy.
Every day I write as fast as my pen can go.
My only problem is that there aren't enough hours in the day to work on my book.
Did I tell you that Amos, the farmhand, married Carrie, the maid, in May?
I think marriage has ruined their relationship.
The other day he tracked mud on the floor.
"Look what you've done, Amos!" Carrie scolded him.
"I just washed that floor!"
She used to laugh when he did something like that.
"Go back outside and bring in some wood for the fire," Carrie said.
Amos grumbled something I couldn't hear.
He used to do anything she asked, but no more.
Looking at them, I vowed never to marry.
Jimmy McBride came for dinner last Sunday.
I was so glad to see him.
He reminded me that there's a whole world beyond this farm.
Jimmy travels around selling bonds to banks.
"How did it go with the bank in town?"
I asked as we sat down to dinner.
"They weren't interested in the bonds at all." Jimmy sighed.
"I'm not having much luck as a salesman."
I think he's too nice to be successful in the financial world.
"If this job doesn't suit you, perhaps you could work for your father," I said.
"That's the last thing I want to do!"
Jimmy seemed so unhappy about his job.
I'm glad he enjoyed Mrs. Semple's fried chicken and ice cream.
The postman has just brought us some news.
Jervie will arrive next Friday and spend a week here.
That's something to look forward to.
But I'm afraid my poor book will suffer.
Jervie is a very time-consuming guest.
Yours as always,
Judy
September 19
Dear Daddy Longlegs,
Something has happened, and I need some advice.
Would it be possible for me to see you?
It's so much easier to talk than write.
Also I don't want your secretary reading my letter.
Judy
P.S. I'm very unhappy.