Daddy-Long-Legs Read online

  I finish at Magnolia (that's where she lives) the first of September,and shall probably spend the remaining three weeks at Lock Willow--Ishould like to see the Semples again and all the friendly animals.

  How does my programme strike you, Daddy? I am getting quiteindependent, you see. You have put me on my feet and I think I canalmost walk alone by now.

  Princeton commencement and our examinations exactly coincide--which isan awful blow. Sallie and I did so want to get away in time for it,but of course that is utterly impossible.

  Goodbye, Daddy. Have a nice summer and come back in the autumn restedand ready for another year of work. (That's what you ought to bewriting to me!) I haven't any idea what you do in the summer, or howyou amuse yourself. I can't visualize your surroundings. Do you playgolf or hunt or ride horseback or just sit in the sun and meditate?

  Anyway, whatever it is, have a good time and don't forget Judy.

  10th June

  Dear Daddy,

  This is the hardest letter I ever wrote, but I have decided what I mustdo, and there isn't going to be any turning back. It is very sweet andgenerous and dear of you to wish to send me to Europe this summer--forthe moment I was intoxicated by the idea; but sober second thoughtssaid no. It would be rather illogical of me to refuse to take yourmoney for college, and then use it instead just for amusement! Youmustn't get me used to too many luxuries. One doesn't miss what onehas never had; but it's awfully hard going without things after one hascommenced thinking they are his--hers (English language needs anotherpronoun) by natural right. Living with Sallie and Julia is an awfulstrain on my stoical philosophy. They have both had things from thetime they were babies; they accept happiness as a matter of course.The World, they think, owes them everything they want. Maybe the Worlddoes--in any case, it seems to acknowledge the debt and pay up. But asfor me, it owes me nothing, and distinctly told me so in the beginning.I have no right to borrow on credit, for there will come a time whenthe World will repudiate my claim.

  I seem to be floundering in a sea of metaphor--but I hope you grasp mymeaning? Anyway, I have a very strong feeling that the only honestthing for me to do is to teach this summer and begin to support myself.

  MAGNOLIA, Four days later

  I'd got just that much written, when--what do you think happened? Themaid arrived with Master Jervie's card. He is going abroad too thissummer; not with Julia and her family, but entirely by himself I toldhim that you had invited me to go with a lady who is chaperoning aparty of girls. He knows about you, Daddy. That is, he knows that myfather and mother are dead, and that a kind gentleman is sending me tocollege; I simply didn't have the courage to tell him about the JohnGrier Home and all the rest. He thinks that you are my guardian and aperfectly legitimate old family friend. I have never told him that Ididn't know you--that would seem too queer!

  Anyway, he insisted on my going to Europe. He said that it was anecessary part of my education and that I mustn't think of refusing.Also, that he would be in Paris at the same time, and that we would runaway from the chaperon occasionally and have dinner together at nice,funny, foreign restaurants.

  Well, Daddy, it did appeal to me! I almost weakened; if he hadn't beenso dictatorial, maybe I should have entirely weakened. I can beenticed step by step, but I WON'T be forced. He said I was a silly,foolish, irrational, quixotic, idiotic, stubborn child (those are a fewof his abusive adjectives; the rest escape me), and that I didn't knowwhat was good for me; I ought to let older people judge. We almostquarrelled--I am not sure but that we entirely did!

  In any case, I packed my trunk fast and came up here. I thought I'dbetter see my bridges in flames behind me before I finished writing toyou. They are entirely reduced to ashes now. Here I am at Cliff Top(the name of Mrs. Paterson's cottage) with my trunk unpacked andFlorence (the little one) already struggling with first declensionnouns. And it bids fair to be a struggle! She is a most uncommonlyspoiled child; I shall have to teach her first how to study--she hasnever in her life concentrated on anything more difficult thanice-cream soda water.

  We use a quiet corner of the cliffs for a schoolroom--Mrs. Patersonwishes me to keep them out of doors--and I will say that I find itdifficult to concentrate with the blue sea before me and shipsa-sailing by! And when I think I might be on one, sailing off toforeign lands--but I WON'T let myself think of anything but LatinGrammar.

  The prepositions a or ab, absque, coram, cum, de e or ex, prae, pro,sine, tenus, in, subter, sub and super govern the ablative.

  So you see, Daddy, I am already plunged into work with my eyespersistently set against temptation. Don't be cross with me, please,and don't think that I do not appreciate your kindness, for Ido--always--always. The only way I can ever repay you is by turningout a Very Useful Citizen (Are women citizens? I don't suppose theyare.) Anyway, a Very Useful Person. And when you look at me you cansay, 'I gave that Very Useful Person to the world.'

  That sounds well, doesn't it, Daddy? But I don't wish to mislead you.The feeling often comes over me that I am not at all remarkable; it isfun to plan a career, but in all probability I shan't turn out a bitdifferent from any other ordinary person. I may end by marrying anundertaker and being an inspiration to him in his work.

  Yours ever, Judy

  19th August

  Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  My window looks out on the loveliest landscape--ocean-scape,rather--nothing but water and rocks.

  The summer goes. I spend the morning with Latin and English andalgebra and my two stupid girls. I don't know how Marion is ever goingto get into college, or stay in after she gets there. And as forFlorence, she is hopeless--but oh! such a little beauty. I don'tsuppose it matters in the least whether they are stupid or not so longas they are pretty? One can't help thinking, though, how theirconversation will bore their husbands, unless they are fortunate enoughto obtain stupid husbands. I suppose that's quite possible; the worldseems to be filled with stupid men; I've met a number this summer.

  In the afternoon we take a walk on the cliffs, or swim, if the tide isright. I can swim in salt water with the utmost ease you see myeducation is already being put to use!

  A letter comes from Mr. Jervis Pendleton in Paris, rather a shortconcise letter; I'm not quite forgiven yet for refusing to follow hisadvice. However, if he gets back in time, he will see me for a fewdays at Lock Willow before college opens, and if I am very nice andsweet and docile, I shall (I am led to infer) be received into favouragain.

  Also a letter from Sallie. She wants me to come to their camp for twoweeks in September. Must I ask your permission, or haven't I yetarrived at the place where I can do as I please? Yes, I am sure Ihave--I'm a Senior, you know. Having worked all summer, I feel liketaking a little healthful recreation; I want to see the Adirondacks; Iwant to see Sallie; I want to see Sallie's brother--he's going to teachme to canoe--and (we come to my chief motive, which is mean) I wantMaster Jervie to arrive at Lock Willow and find me not there.

  I MUST show him that he can't dictate to me. No one can dictate to mebut you, Daddy--and you can't always! I'm off for the woods.

  Judy

  CAMP MCBRIDE, 6th September

  Dear Daddy,

  Your letter didn't come in time (I am pleased to say). If you wish yourinstructions to be obeyed, you must have your secretary transmit themin less than two weeks. As you observe, I am here, and have been forfive days.

  The woods are fine, and so is the camp, and so is the weather, and soare the McBrides, and so is the whole world. I'm very happy!

  There's Jimmie calling for me to come canoeing. Goodbye--sorry to havedisobeyed,
but why are you so persistent about not wanting me to play alittle? When I've worked all the summer I deserve two weeks. You areawfully dog-in-the-mangerish.

  However--I love you still, Daddy, in spite of all your faults.

  Judy

  3rd OctoberDear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  Back at college and a Senior--also editor of the Monthly. It doesn'tseem possible, does it, that so sophisticated a person, just four yearsago, was an inmate of the John Grier Home? We do arrive fast inAmerica!

  What do you think of this? A note from Master Jervie directed to LockWillow and forwarded here. He's sorry, but he finds that he can't getup there this autumn; he has accepted an invitation to go yachting withsome friends. Hopes I've had a nice summer and am enjoying the country.

  And he knew all the time that I was with the McBrides, for Julia toldhim so! You men ought to leave intrigue to women; you haven't a lightenough touch.

  Julia has a trunkful of the most ravishing new clothes--an evening gownof rainbow Liberty crepe that would be fitting raiment for the angelsin Paradise. And I thought that my own clothes this year wereunprecedentedly (is there such a word?) beautiful. I copied Mrs.Paterson's wardrobe with the aid of a cheap dressmaker, and though thegowns didn't turn out quite twins of the originals, I was entirelyhappy until Julia unpacked. But now--I live to see Paris!

  Dear Daddy, aren't you glad you're not a girl? I suppose you thinkthat the fuss we make over clothes is too absolutely silly? It is. Nodoubt about it. But it's entirely your fault.

  Did you ever hear about the learned Herr Professor who regardedunnecessary adornment with contempt and favoured sensible, utilitarianclothes for women? His wife, who was an obliging creature, adopted'dress reform.' And what do you think he did? He eloped with a chorusgirl.

  Yours ever, Judy

  PS. The chamber-maid in our corridor wears blue checked ginghamaprons. I am going to get her some brown ones instead, and sink theblue ones in the bottom of the lake. I have a reminiscent chill everytime I look at them.

  17th November

  Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  Such a blight has fallen over my literary career. I don't know whetherto tell you or not, but I would like some sympathy--silent sympathy,please; don't re-open the wound by referring to it in your next letter.

  I've been writing a book, all last winter in the evenings, and all thesummer when I wasn't teaching Latin to my two stupid children. I justfinished it before college opened and sent it to a publisher. He keptit two months, and I was certain he was going to take it; but yesterdaymorning an express parcel came (thirty cents due) and there it was backagain with a letter from the publisher, a very nice, fatherlyletter--but frank! He said he saw from the address that I was still atcollege, and if I would accept some advice, he would suggest that I putall of my energy into my lessons and wait until I graduated beforebeginning to write. He enclosed his reader's opinion. Here it is:

  'Plot highly improbable. Characterization exaggerated. Conversationunnatural. A good deal of humour but not always in the best of taste.Tell her to keep on trying, and in time she may produce a real book.'

  Not on the whole flattering, is it, Daddy? And I thought I was makinga notable addition to American literature. I did truly. I wasplanning to surprise you by writing a great novel before I graduated.I collected the material for it while I was at Julia's last Christmas.But I dare say the editor is right. Probably two weeks was not enoughin which to observe the manners and customs of a great city.

  I took it walking with me yesterday afternoon, and when I came to thegas house, I went in and asked the engineer if I might borrow hisfurnace. He politely opened the door, and with my own hands I chuckedit in. I felt as though I had cremated my only child!

  I went to bed last night utterly dejected; I thought I was never goingto amount to anything, and that you had thrown away your money fornothing. But what do you think? I woke up this morning with abeautiful new plot in my head, and I've been going about all dayplanning my characters, just as happy as I could be. No one can everaccuse me of being a pessimist! If I had a husband and twelve childrenswallowed by an earthquake one day, I'd bob up smilingly the nextmorning and commence to look for another set.

  Affectionately, Judy

  14th December

  Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  I dreamed the funniest dream last night. I thought I went into a bookstore and the clerk brought me a new book named The Life and Letters ofJudy Abbott. I could see it perfectly plainly--red cloth binding witha picture of the John Grier Home on the cover, and my portrait for afrontispiece with, 'Very truly yours, Judy Abbott,' written below. Butjust as I was turning to the end to read the inscription on mytombstone, I woke up. It was very annoying! I almost found out whomI'm going to marry and when I'm going to die.

  Don't you think it would be interesting if you really could read thestory of your life--written perfectly truthfully by an omniscientauthor? And suppose you could only read it on this condition: thatyou would never forget it, but would have to go through life knowingahead of time exactly how everything you did would turn out, andforeseeing to the exact hour the time when you would die. How manypeople do you suppose would have the courage to read it then? or howmany could suppress their curiosity sufficiently to escape from readingit, even at the price of having to live without hope and withoutsurprises?

  Life is monotonous enough at best; you have to eat and sleep about sooften. But imagine how DEADLY monotonous it would be if nothingunexpected could happen between meals. Mercy! Daddy, there's a blot,but I'm on the third page and I can't begin a new sheet.

  I'm going on with biology again this year--very interesting subject;we're studying the alimentary system at present. You should see howsweet a cross-section of the duodenum of a cat is under the microscope.

  Also we've arrived at philosophy--interesting but evanescent. I preferbiology where you can pin the subject under discussion to a board.There's another! And another! This pen is weeping copiously. Pleaseexcuse its tears.

  Do you believe in free will? I do--unreservedly. I don't agree at allwith the philosophers who think that every action is the absolutelyinevitable and automatic resultant of an aggregation of remote causes.That's the most immoral doctrine I ever heard--nobody would be to blamefor anything. If a man believed in fatalism, he would naturally justsit down and say, 'The Lord's will be done,' and continue to sit untilhe fell over dead.

  I believe absolutely in my own free will and my own power toaccomplish--and that is the belief that moves mountains. You watch mebecome a great author! I have four chapters of my new book finishedand five more drafted.

  This is a very abstruse letter--does your head ache, Daddy? I thinkwe'll stop now and make some fudge. I'm sorry I can't send you apiece; it will be unusually good, for we're going to make it with realcream and three butter balls.

  Yours affectionately, Judy

  PS. We're having fancy dancing in gymnasium class. You can see by theaccompanying picture how much we look like a real ballet. The one atthe end accomplishing a graceful pirouette is me--I mean I.

  26th December

  My Dear, Dear, Daddy,

  Haven't you any sense? Don't you KNOW that you mustn't give one girlseventeen Christmas presents? I'm a Socialist, please remember; do youwish to turn me into a Plutocrat?

  Think how embarrassing it would be if we should ever quarrel! I shouldhave to engage a moving-van to return your gifts.

  I am sorry that the necktie I sent was so wobbly; I knit it with my ownhands (as you doubtless discovered
from internal evidence). You willhave to wear it on cold days and keep your coat buttoned up tight.

  Thank you, Daddy, a thousand times. I think you're the sweetest manthat ever lived--and the foolishest!

  Judy

  Here's a four-leaf clover from Camp McBride to bring you good luck forthe New Year.

  9th January

  Do you wish to do something, Daddy, that will ensure your eternalsalvation? There is a family here who are in awfully desperatestraits. A mother and father and four visible children--the two olderboys have disappeared into the world to make their fortune and have notsent any of it back. The father worked in a glass factory and gotconsumption--it's awfully unhealthy work--and now has been sent away toa hospital. That took all their savings, and the support of the familyfalls upon the oldest daughter, who is twenty-four. She dressmakes for$1.50 a day (when she can get it) and embroiders centrepieces in theevening. The mother isn't very strong and is extremely ineffectual andpious. She sits with her hands folded, a picture of patientresignation, while the daughter kills herself with overwork andresponsibility and worry; she doesn't see how they are going to getthrough the rest of the winter--and I don't either. One hundreddollars would buy some coal and some shoes for three children so thatthey could go to school, and give a little margin so that she needn'tworry herself to death when a few days pass and she doesn't get work.