Footprints

The heavy glass and bronze door revolved, and released from its sections, out of the grizzly November mist and into the rosy and fragrant hotel lobby, malice and envy, joy and e...

Dr. Joseph Elm said: “Look, Miss MacDonald, I’m not asking you to say whether or not you’ll take the case. All I’m asking you to do is to read these letters.”

Dearest, dear Judy-pudy: Uncle Phineas’s dictum, “Never begin a letter or end a love affair with an apology,” has been a hindrance to me in the starting of this letter. Perhaps...

I have decided that, probably, the beginning of this very long letter, which I am planning to write to you this afternoon and evening, should be that Irene does not like Q 2 Ran...

Dearest Judy: Neal says that when you say for me not to write anything about people unless I can write good things about them you are displaying the worst sort of Quilter sentim...

Dearest Judy-pudy: Dr. Joe came out last Thursday to see Father and, as Neal says, to sit and worship at Grandfather’s feet. Neal himself worships Grandfather, you know. That is...

Dear, dear Sister Judy: Last night I had a terrible nightmare. I screamed and woke. I found unhappiness sitting like a giant on my chest. I began to cry. Neal came in, wrapped i...

Dearest Judy dear: Father and Uncle Phineas and Chris have all gone to Portland for a few days. They left here last Thursday. I think that they will return to-morrow. Father had...

Judith dearest: Christopher, I think, is going to sell Q 2 Ranch. It seems odd and perhaps not right that a private disaster like this should completely overshadow, for us, the...

Dear Judy: I am just home from Quilterville where I got your telegram asking me to tell you the truth about what has happened here. I told Grandfather and the others that they h...

I can’t star myself, much, for the next few minutes. Chris, Grandfather, Aunt Gracia, and Irene were in the room before I had realized that Father was dead. Then I thought that...

One thing I am bound to say for Irene: she was eager to tell what she knew. Chris did not wish her to tell. She insisted and got snaky with him for trying to stop her.

Dear Judy: I said I’d write again to-night, so I shall, though I haven’t much to add to what I wrote last night. All day I’ve been troubled with doubts about the wisdom of this...

Dear Judy: We have been all day in Quilterville, attending the coroner’s inquest. It was pretty bad. Worse than I had expected. Hank Buckerman was all right, decent as could be....

I had been as nervous as an old woman about Aunt Gracia all during these everlasting proceedings. She and I had ridden to Quilterville together to keep from crowding the carriage.

He had heard from Mr. Ward, who had been to see the insurance people. He said that they were inclined to hedge. They had hoped to have it proved that Father’s death was suicidal...

Dear Judy: When I wrote to you, day before yesterday, I thought that I was through with this letter writing. I wrote, then, in the rôle of Mr. Wise-guy, scorning you and the res...

Dear Judy: You are a good kid, all right, but someway or other your letters seem to rub me the wrong way. For gosh sakes, Jude, stop telling me that I didn’t murder Father. If y...

Dear Judy: I have what two weeks ago would have been mighty good news for you and for us all. Uncle Phineas got home this afternoon with $45,000 marked in his bank book. That is...

Lynn MacDonald’s reaching fingertips touched smooth wood. She glanced at the page in her hand. After all, it was the ending; fiction could scarcely have improved upon it. What w...

A gray kitten batted the tip end of a fern flowing green to the tiles of the sunroom’s floor, leaped three feet, killed an inch of fringe on the rug, toppled flat, waved coral s...