It was great fun, though I have seen better candy. When it was finally finished, and ourselves and the kitchen and the door-knobs all thoroughly sticky, we organized a procession and still in our caps and aprons, each carrying a big fork or spoon or frying pan, we marched through the empty corridors to the officers' parlour, where half-a-dozen professors and instructors were passing a tranquil evening. We serenaded them with college songs and offered refreshments. They accepted politely but dubiously. We left them sucking chunks of molasses candy, sticky and speechless.
You see, Daddy, the miserable creature that I am but at least I'm honest; and you knew already, from my asylum record, that I wasn't perfect, didn't you?
Your five gold pieces were a surprise! I'm not used to receiving Christmas presents. You have already given me such lots of things—everything I have, you know—that I don't quite feel that I deserve extras. But I like them just the same. Do you want to know what I bought with my money? I. A silver watch in a leather case to wear on my wrist and get me to recitations in time. II. Matthew Arnold's poems. III. A hot water bottle. IV. A steamer rug. (My tower is cold.) V. Five hundred sheets of yellow manuscript paper. (I'm going to commence being an author pretty soon.) VI. A dictionary of synonyms. (To enlarge the author's vocabulary.) VII. (I don't much like to confess this last item, but I will.) A pair of silk stockings. And now, Daddy, never say I don't tell all!
You never answered my question and it was very important. ARE YOU BALD? I have it planned exactly what you look like—very satisfactorily—until I reach the top of your head, and then I AM stuck. I can't decide whether you have white hair or black hair or sort of sprinkly grey hair or maybe none at all. Here is your portrait: But the problem is, shall I add some hair? Would you like to know what colour your eyes are? They're grey, and your eyebrows stick out like a porch roof (beetling, they're called in novels), and your mouth is a straight line with a tendency to turn down at the corners. Oh, you see, I know! You're a snappy old thing with a temper.
