Dear Daddy,

He has gone, and we are missing him! When you get accustomed to
people or places or ways of living, and then have them snatched away,
it does leave an awfully empty, gnawing sort of sensation.
I\'m finding Mrs. Semple\'s conversation pretty unseasoned food.

College opens in two weeks and I shall be glad to begin work again.
I have worked quite a lot this summer though--six short stories and
seven poems. Those I sent to the magazines all came back with the
most courteous promptitude. But I don\'t mind. It\'s good practice.
Master Jervie read them--he brought in the post, so I couldn\'t
help his knowing--and he said they were DREADFUL. They showed
that I didn\'t have the slightest idea of what I was talking about.
(Master Jervie doesn\'t let politeness interfere with truth.)
But the last one I did--just a little sketch laid in college--
he said wasn\'t bad; and he had it typewritten, and I sent it
to a magazine. They\'ve had it two weeks; maybe they\'re thinking
it over.

You should see the sky! There\'s the queerest orange-coloured light
over everything. We\'re going to have a storm.


It commenced just that moment with tremendously big drops and all
the shutters banging. I had to run to close the windows, while Carrie
flew to the attic with an armful of milk pans to put under the places
where the roof leaks and then, just as I wa............