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The infirmary

April 4th


Dearest Daddy-Long-legs,


     Yesterday evening just toward dark, when I was sitting up in bed looking out at the rain and feeling awfully bored with life in a great institution, he nurse appeared with along white x addressed to me, and filled with the loveliest pink rosebuds.  And much nicer still, it contained a card with a very polite message written in a funny little uphill backhand (but one which shows a great deal of character).  Thank you, Daddy, a thousand times.  Your flowers make the first real, true present I ever received in my life.  If you want to know what a baby I am, I lay down and cried because I was so happy.

    Now that I am sure you read my letters, I’ll make them much more interesting, so they’ll be wroth keeping in a safe with red tape around them―only please take out that dreadful one and burn it up.  I’d hate to think that you ever read it over.

     Thank you for making a very sick, cross, miserable freshman cheerful.  Probably you have lots of loving family and friends, and you don’t know what it feels like to be alone.  But I do.

     Good-bye―I’ll promise never to be horrid again, because now I know you’re a real person; also I’ll promise never to bother you with any more questions.

     Do you still hate girls?



Yours forever,