Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs,

Isn\'t it fun to work--or don\'t you ever do it? It\'s especially
fun when your kind of work is the thing you\'d rather do more than
anything else in the world. I\'ve been writing as fast as my pen
would go every day this summer, and my only quarrel with life
is that the days aren\'t long enough to write all the beautiful
and valuable and entertaining thoughts I\'m thinking.

I\'ve finished the second draft of my book and am going to begin
the third tomorrow morning at half-past seven. It\'s the sweetest
book you ever saw--it is, truly. I think of nothing else.
I can barely wait in the morning to dress and eat before beginning;
then I write and write and write till suddenly I\'m so tired that I\'m
limp all over. Then I go out with Colin (the new sheep dog) and romp
through the fields and get a fresh supply of ideas for the next day.
It\'s the most beautiful book you ever saw--Oh, pardon--I said
that before.

You don\'t think me conceited, do you, Daddy dear?

I\'m not, really, only just now I\'m in the enthusiastic stage.
Maybe later on I\'ll get cold and critical and sniffy. No, I\'m sure
I won\'t! This time I\'ve written a real book. Just wait till you
see it.

I\'ll try for a minute to talk about something else. I never told you,
did I, that Amasai and Carrie got married last May? They are still
working here, but so far as I can see it has spoiled them both.
She used to laugh when he tramped in mud or dropped ashes on the floor,
but now--you should hear her scold! And she doesn\'t curl her hair
any longer. Amasai, who used to be so obliging about beating
rugs and carrying wood, grumbles if you suggest such a thing.
Also his neckties are quite dingy--black and brown, where they
used to be scarlet and purple. I\'ve determined never to marry.
It\'s a deteriorating process, evidently.

There isn\'t much of any f............