dear daddy-long-legs,

this is an extra letter in the middle of the month because i'm

rather lonely tonight. it's awfully stormy. all the lights are

out on the campus, but i drank black coffee and i can't go to sleep.

i had a supper party this evening consisting of sallie and julia

and leonora fenton--and sardines and toasted muffins and salad

and fudge and coffee. julia said she'd had a good time, but sallie

stayed to help wash the dishes.

i might, very usefully, put some time on latin tonight but,

there's no doubt about it, i'm a very languid latin scholar.

we've finished livy and de senectute and are now engaged with de

amicitia (pronounced damn icitia).

should you mind, just for a little while, pretending you are

my grandmother? sallie has one and julia and leonora each two,

and they were all comparing them tonight. i can't think of

anything i'd rather have; it's such a respectable relationship.

so, if you really don't object--when i went into town yesterday,

i saw the sweetest cap of cluny lace trimmed with lavender ribbon.

i am going to make you a present of it on your eighty-third birthday.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

that's the clock in the chapel tower striking twelve. i believe

i am sleepy after all.

good night, granny.

i love you dearly.

judy