20th Jan.
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Did you ever have a sweet baby girl who was stolen from the cradle ininfancy?
Maybe I am she! If we were in a novel, that would be the denouement,wouldn't it?
It's really awfully queer not to know what one is--sort of exciting andromantic. There are such a lot of possibilities. Maybe I'm notAmerican; lots of people aren't. I may be straight descended from theancient Romans, or I may be a Viking's daughter, or I may be the childof a Russian exile and belong by rights in a Siberian prison, or maybeI'm a Gipsy--I think perhaps I am. I have a very WANDERING spirit,though I haven't as yet had much chance to develop it.
Do you know about that one scandalous blot in my career the time I ranaway from the asylum because they punished me for stealing cookies?It's down in the books free for any Trustee to read. But really,Daddy, what could you expect? When you put a hungry little nine-yeargirl in the pantry scouring knives, with the cookie jar at her elbow,and go off and leave her alone; and then suddenly pop in again,wouldn't you expect to find her a bit crumby? And then when you jerkher by the elbow and box her ears, and make her leave the table whenthe pudding comes, and tell all the other children that it's becauseshe's a thief, wouldn't you expect her to run away?
I only ran four miles. They caught me and brought me back; and everyday for a week I was tied, like a naughty puppy, to a stake in the backyard while the other children were out at recess.
Oh, dear! There's the chapel bell, and after chapel I have a committeemeeting. I'm sorry because I meant to write you a very entertainingletter this time.
Auf wiedersehen Cher Daddy, Pax tibi! Judy
PS. There's one thing I'm perfectly sure of I'm not a Chinaman.