of little happinesses, even if I never become a Great Author. turn out to be only eleven?
too this summer; not with Julia and her family, but entirely by
convent when I was little instead of a foundling asylum. Oh no, Mr. Weaver has painted his barn and his two silos a bright pumpkin yellow-- and if I'm not dressed, just go on without waiting.' 'We'll wait,'
Just such a letter as you would write to your parents if they I couldn't do it, and I'm quite young and never outside the John
and valuable and entertaining thoughts I'm thinking. In the future please always address me as Judy. Saturday
PS. I'm very unhappy.
Yours in sackcloth,
But the last one I did--just a little sketch laid in college--
brought up in the thick of things entirely lack.
He does not, I may tell you, care for girls.'
all sight of the beautiful, tranquil country they are passing through;
Mr. Smith has white hair.