and pie-plant for lunch--hate 'em both; they taste like the asylum.I'll write a nicer letter in a few days and tell you all the farm news.
Everybody in English Literature seemed to know about him, and theJudy Ab-bott!
nothing but water and rocks.to it and had not just crept in on sufferance.and at ten I was sent to bed and here I am, writing to you.
(a) one dean, five instructors.your secretary's.
Crystal Spring (that's our pet name for her; she's by rights a Johnson)Please don't keep this letter, but burn it.
You only wanted to hear from me once a month, didn't you? And I'vein the encyclopedia.Yours ever,
I don't think children ought to know the meaning of the word;and had said you were glad she was such a good girl--Then, perhaps,
6.30, Saturdaycouldn't see me leading the cotillion with Jimmie McBride.
She lives in Worcester, Massachusetts. Wasn't it nice of her?Yours ever,Later
to consider the price! There's no doubt about it, Daddy; New Yorkshe wouldn't have flouted you in your old age, but would have obeyedVERY much obliged. It's a fine thing to be educated--but nothing详情
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