Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs, I have some awful news to tell you, but I won't begin
with it. I'll try to get you in a good humor first.
I am an author now. A poem entitled “From My Tower” appears in the February
Monthly on the first page, which is a very great honor for a freshman.
I will send you a copy in case you care to read it.
Let me see if I can't think of something else pleasant. - Oh, yes. I am learning to
skate, and can glide quite respectably all by myself. Also I've learned how to slide
down a rope from the roof of the gymnasium.
This is a sunny winter afternoon, with icicles dripping from the fir trees and all
the world bending under a weight of snow - except me, and I'm bending under a
weight of sorrow.
Now for the news, Daddy!
Are you surely in a good humor? I flunked mathematics and Latin prose. I am
tutoring in them, and will take another examination next month. I'm sorry if you
are disappointed, but otherwise I don't care a bit, for now I know such a lot of
things not mentioned in the catalogue. I've read seventeen novels and a lot of
poetry, really necessary novels like “Vanity Fair” and “Alice in Wonderland”.
So you see, Daddy, I'm much more intelligent than if I'd just learnt only Latin. Will
you forgive me this once if I promise never to flunk again?
Yours truly,
Tudy

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