Daddy-Long-Legs/Letter 60

December 26th.

My Dear, Dear, Daddy,

Haven't you any sense? Don't you know that you mustn't give one girl seventeen Christmas presents? I'm a Socialist, please remember; do you wish to turn me into a Plutocrat?

Think how embarrassing it would be if we should ever quarrel! I should have to engage a moving van to return your gifts.

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I am sorry that the necktie I sent was so wobbly; I knit it with my own hands (as you doubtless discovered from internal evidence). You will have to wear it on cold days and keep your coat buttoned up tight.

Thank you, Daddy, a thousand times. I think you're the sweetest man that ever lived—and the foolishest!


Here's a four-leaf clover from Camp McBride to bring you good luck for the New Year.