far away to do any harm. Mrs. Lippett is dead for ever, so far as I
am concerned, and the Semples aren’t expected to overlook my moral
welfare, are they? No, I am sure not. I am entirely

grown up. Hooray!

I leave you now to pack a trunk, and three boxes of teakettles
and dishes and sofa cushions and books.
Yours ever,
Judy

PS. Here is my physiology exam. Do you think you could have passed?
LOCK 杭州男士养生会所推荐 WILLOW FARM, Saturday night
Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs,

I’ve only just come and I’m not unpacked, but I can’t wait to tell you
how much I like farms. This is a heavenly, heavenly, HEAVENLY spot!
The house is square like 杭州桑拿一品楼 this: And OLD. A hundred years or so.
It has a veranda on the side which I can’t draw and a sweet porch
in front. The picture really doesn’t do it justice–those things
that look like feather dusters are maple trees, and 杭州洗浴按摩全套服务 the prickly ones
that border the drive are murmuring pines and hemlocks. It stands
on the top of a hill and looks way off over miles of green meadows
to

another line of hills.

That is the way Connecticut goes, in a series of Marcelle waves;
and Lock Willow Farm is just on the crest of one wave. The barns
used to be across the road where they obstructed the view, but a kind
flash of lightning came from 杭州保健按摩技师 heaven and burnt them down.

The people are Mr. and Mrs. Semple and a hired girl and two hired men.
The hired people eat in the kitchen, and the Semples and Judy