October 3
Dear Daddy Longlegs,
I'm back at school, and I'm a senior.
This year I'm the editor of the student magazine.
You'll never guess what was waiting for me when I arrived.
A letter from Jervis Pendleton!
He'd sent it to Lock Willow Farm.
But I wasn't there because I was at Sallie's summer house.
Mrs. Semple forwarded the letter to me at college.
Here's what Jervie had to say:
"I'm sorry, but I won't be able to get to Lock Willow.
I've accepted an invitation to go yachting with some friends.
I hope you had a nice summer and that you're enjoying the farm."
I don't know what he was trying to do.
He knew my plans had changed and that I wasn't at Lock Willow.
Julia had told him that I was in the mountains with Sallie.
You men should leave scheming to women.
We are much better at it!
I'm living with Sallie and Julia again.
Sallie was the first to arrive.
She helped me unpack my trunk.
My clothes are so stylish now.
It's hard to believe that three years ago I was living in an orphanage.
"You have so many pretty outfits this year."
Sallie was admiring a new blue skirt with matching jacket.
"I have a confession.
I copied Mrs. Paterson's wardrobe!"
"How did you manage that?" Sallie asked.
"I found an inexpensive dressmaker this summer."
I pulled a green gown from my trunk.
"This isn't an exact copy of Mrs. Peterson's dress, but I really like it."
"You'll look beautiful in that!" Sallie said.
"Thank you. I'm really pleased with the way my clothes turned out."
And I was really pleased—until Julia arrived.
Her trunk was full of the most beautiful dresses I've ever seen.
She showed us a rainbow-colored ball gown.
"That looks like something an angel would wear!" Sallie exclaimed.
"I found it in a little shop in France," Julia said.
"There are the most exquisite dress shops in Paris.
And the hat shops!"
She sighed at the memory. "They're wonderful!"
"I must go to Paris someday!" I said.
I suppose you think we're silly to fuss over clothes like this.
But I do love pretty dresses.
Speaking of clothes . . . the maid for our hallway wears a gingham apron.
Just like the dresses I used to wear at the orphanage!
I get a chill every time I see her.
I want to get her some new aprons.
Then I'll sink the blue ones in the lake!
Yours ever,
Judy
November 17
Dear Daddy Longlegs,
I need some sympathy.
My literary career has had a setback.
All last winter I was writing a novel.
This summer I worked on it whenever I wasn't tutoring my two silly girls.
I finished it right before school started and sent it to a publisher.
Well, he just rejected it.
He noticed my return address and realized that I was still at school.
He suggested I concentrate on my studies.
Then I could try writing again after I graduate!
He criticized my plot, my dialogue, and my sense of humor.
And I thought I'd written the Great American Novel!
I researched it while I was at Julia's last Christmas.
But I guess two weeks wasn't long enough to capture the spirit of New York City.
So I burned my manuscript.
Every single page!
I went to bed last night totally dejected.
I felt like I would never become a writer.
I also thought you'd thrown away your money trying to educate me.
But then I woke up this morning with a wonderful new plot in my head!
I've been working on my characters all day.
I'm so happy to be writing again.
You have to admit I'm an optimist.
Affectionately,
Judy
December 17
Dear Daddy Longlegs,
I had the strangest dream last night.
I went into a bookstore, looking for something to read.
"Do you like fiction or nonfiction?" the clerk asked me.
"I like them both.
You have so many books here, I don't know where to start."
"Let me show you our latest bestseller."
He handed me a new book with a red cover.
"Oh my!" I said in surprise.
The book was The Life and Letters of Judy Abbott.
The John Grier Home was pictured on the cover, and my photo was inside.
I bought the book and took it home.
Then I sat up half the night reading.
I was just about to find out my husband's name when I woke up!
By the way, my real book is going well.
I've finished four chapters and drafted five more.
I'll be a great writer yet. Just watch me!
Yours affectionately,
Judy