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December 20th.
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I've just a moment, because I must attend two classes, pack a trunk and a suit-case, and catch the four-o'clock train—but I couldn't go without sending a word to let you know how much I appreciate my Christmas box.
I love the furs and the necklace and the Liberty scarf and the gloves and handkerchiefs and books and purse—and most of all I love you! But Daddy, you have no business to spoil me this way. I'm only human—and a girl at that. How can I keep my mind sternly fixed on a studious career, when you deflect me with such worldly frivolities?
I have strong suspicions now as to which one of the John Grier Trustees used to give
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