December 26
Dear Daddy Longlegs,
Do you have any sense at all?
You shouldn't give me 17 Christmas presents!
That's too many.
What if we argued?
I'd have to hire a moving van to return all your gifts.
I'm sorry the necktie I sent was so crooked.
I made it myself.
But I guess you could tell that by looking at it.
You'll have to wear it on cold days and keep your coat buttoned up.
Thank you a thousand times for my gifts. I like them all!
Merry Christmas,
Judy
P.S. Here's a four-leaf clover to bring you luck in the New Year.
I found it last summer at the McBrides' house.
January 9
Dear Daddy Longlegs,
Would you like to do something that will guarantee you get into heaven?
There's a family in town in desperate need of help.
I know the oldest daughter, who's 24.
She's a seamstress and sometimes makes clothes for girls at the college.
I went to her house today to pick up a skirt, and she was in tears.
"What's wrong, Emily?" I asked.
"Oh, everything, Miss Abbott."
She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.
"My father used to work at the glass factory.
But he got ill and was sent to a hospital.
That took all our savings.
Now I'm the only one supporting our family."
"Don't you have anyone who can help you?" I asked.
She shook her head sadly.
"My two older brothers are working.
But we don't know where they are.
They haven't sent any money home.
My mother doesn't have a job, and my three younger siblings aren't old enough to work."
I didn't want to embarrass her, but I had to ask a question.
"Would you mind telling me how much money you make?"
"I make dresses and do other sewing for a dollar and a half a day.
At night I embroider table linens.
But I don't have work every day."
During this conversation, Emily's mother had been sitting quietly.
But now she spoke up.
"Things will work out," Emily's mother said.
"Don't worry about us, miss."
Emily shook her head.
"I don't know how we're going to get through this winter."
"Let me see what I can do," I said.
"I might be able to help you."
I was shaking my head in disbelief when I left Emily's house.
Her mother just sits there all day while Emily kills herself working!
You're the richest man I know.
Do you think you could spare one hundred dollars?
This girl deserves help a lot more than I ever did.
One hundred dollars would buy some coal for the heater and shoes for the little children.
Can you imagine being without shoes in the winter?
It would also give Emily a financial cushion.
Then she wouldn't worry on days when she has no work.
Meanwhile . . . my least favorite class is philosophy.
The professor seems to think this is our only class.
He piles on the work!
He tries to lighten his dreary lectures with jokes.
But they aren't funny at all.
Where do you think my new novel is?
In the wastebasket! I could tell it was terrible.
So I knew it would never get published.
January 10
I'm writing to you from a bed of pain.
I have swollen tonsils.
I can swallow hot milk, but that's it.
The doctor visited me in the infirmary.
"Why didn't you have your tonsils removed when you were a child?" he asked.
"What were your parents thinking?"
"I have no idea, but they weren't thinking about me."
I didn't actually say that because it hurt too much to talk.
But that's what I wanted to say.
Yours,
J.A.
January 12
Dear Mr. Philanthropist,
Your check for Emily's family came today.
Thank you so much!
I skipped gym class and took it to her right after lunch.
You should have seen Emily's face!
She was so surprised and happy and relieved.
She looked almost young again.
(It's pitiful that she looks so old at 24.)
"Good things are starting to happen," Emily said.
"This morning a woman ordered a wedding dress and all the clothes for her honeymoon.
That's two months' worth of work.
And now this check arrives!"
"I told you everything would work out," her mother said.
I tried to stay quiet, but I'd lost my patience with her.
"Things didn't just happen to work out," I said.
"They worked out because I told Mr. Smith about your problems.
And he very kindly decided to write a check."
"Yes, Mother," Emily said.
"It's Miss Abbott and Mr. Smith that we should be thanking."
Yours most gratefully,
Judy Abbott
P.S. My throat is feeling much better.
I'm out of bed and back to school. Obviously!