Daddy-Long-Legs Read online

  You are the richest man I know. Don't you suppose you could spare onehundred dollars? That girl deserves help a lot more than I ever did.I wouldn't ask it except for the girl; I don't care much what happensto the mother--she is such a jelly-fish.

  The way people are for ever rolling their eyes to heaven and saying,'Perhaps it's all for the best,' when they are perfectly dead sure it'snot, makes me enraged. Humility or resignation or whatever you chooseto call it, is simply impotent inertia. I'm for a more militantreligion!

  We are getting the most dreadful lessons in philosophy--all ofSchopenhauer for tomorrow. The professor doesn't seem to realize thatwe are taking any other subject. He's a queer old duck; he goes aboutwith his head in the clouds and blinks dazedly when occasionally hestrikes solid earth. He tries to lighten his lectures with anoccasional witticism--and we do our best to smile, but I assure you hisjokes are no laughing matter. He spends his entire time betweenclasses in trying to figure out whether matter really exists or whetherhe only thinks it exists.

  I'm sure my sewing girl hasn't any doubt but that it exists!

  Where do you think my new novel is? In the waste-basket. I can seemyself that it's no good on earth, and when a loving author realizesthat, what WOULD be the judgment of a critical public?

  Later

  I address you, Daddy, from a bed of pain. For two days I've been laidup with swollen tonsils; I can just swallow hot milk, and that is all.'What were your parents thinking of not to have those tonsils out whenyou were a baby?' the doctor wished to know. I'm sure I haven't anidea, but I doubt if they were thinking much about me.

  Yours, J. A.

  Next morning

  I just read this over before sealing it. I don't know WHY I cast sucha misty atmosphere over life. I hasten to assure you that I am youngand happy and exuberant; and I trust you are the same. Youth hasnothing to do with birthdays, only with ALIVEDNESS of spirit, so evenif your hair is grey, Daddy, you can still be a boy.

  Affectionately, Judy

  12th Jan.

  Dear Mr. Philanthropist,

  Your cheque for my family came yesterday. Thank you so much! I cutgymnasium and took it down to them right after luncheon, and you shouldhave seen the girl's face! She was so surprised and happy and relievedthat she looked almost young; and she's only twenty-four. Isn't itpitiful?

  Anyway, she feels now as though all the good things were comingtogether. She has steady work ahead for two months--someone's gettingmarried, and there's a trousseau to make.

  'Thank the good Lord!' cried the mother, when she grasped the fact thatthat small piece of paper was one hundred dollars.

  'It wasn't the good Lord at all,' said I, 'it was Daddy-Long-Legs.'(Mr. Smith, I called you.)

  'But it was the good Lord who put it in his mind,' said she.

  'Not at all! I put it in his mind myself,' said I.

  But anyway, Daddy, I trust the good Lord will reward you suitably. Youdeserve ten thousand years out of purgatory.

  Yours most gratefully, Judy Abbott

  15th Feb.

  May it please Your Most Excellent Majesty:

  This morning I did eat my breakfast upon a cold turkey pie and a goose,and I did send for a cup of tee (a china drink) of which I had neverdrank before.

  Don't be nervous, Daddy--I haven't lost my mind; I'm merely quotingSam'l Pepys. We're reading him in connection with English History,original sources. Sallie and Julia and I converse now in the languageof 1660. Listen to this:

  'I went to Charing Cross to see Major Harrison hanged, drawn andquartered: he looking as cheerful as any man could do in thatcondition.' And this: 'Dined with my lady who is in handsome mourningfor her brother who died yesterday of spotted fever.'

  Seems a little early to commence entertaining, doesn't it? A friend ofPepys devised a very cunning manner whereby the king might pay hisdebts out of the sale to poor people of old decayed provisions. Whatdo you, a reformer, think of that? I don't believe we're so bad todayas the newspapers make out.

  Samuel was as excited about his clothes as any girl; he spent fivetimes as much on dress as his wife--that appears to have been theGolden Age of husbands. Isn't this a touching entry? You see hereally was honest. 'Today came home my fine Camlett cloak with goldbuttons, which cost me much money, and I pray God to make me able topay for it.'

  Excuse me for being so full of Pepys; I'm writing a special topic onhim.

  What do you think, Daddy? The Self-Government Association hasabolished the ten o'clock rule. We can keep our lights all night if wechoose, the only requirement being that we do not disturb others--weare not supposed to entertain on a large scale. The result is abeautiful commentary on human nature. Now that we may stay up as longas we choose, we no longer choose. Our heads begin to nod at nineo'clock, and by nine-thirty the pen drops from our nerveless grasp.It's nine-thirty now. Good night.

  Sunday

  Just back from church--preacher from Georgia. We must take care, hesays, not to develop our intellects at the expense of our emotionalnatures--but methought it was a poor, dry sermon (Pepys again). Itdoesn't matter what part of the United States or Canada they come from,or what denomination they are, we always get the same sermon. Why onearth don't they go to men's colleges and urge the students not toallow their manly natures to be crushed out by too much mentalapplication?

  It's a beautiful day--frozen and icy and clear. As soon as dinner isover, Sallie and Julia and Marty Keene and Eleanor Pratt (friends ofmine, but you don't know them) and I are going to put on short skirtsand walk 'cross country to Crystal Spring Farm and have a fried chickenand waffle supper, and then have Mr. Crystal Spring drive us home inhis buckboard. We are supposed to be inside the campus at seven, butwe are going to stretch a point tonight and make it eight.

  Farewell, kind Sir.

  I have the honour of subscribing myself, Your most loyall, dutifull, faithfull and obedient servant, J. Abbott

  March Fifth

  Dear Mr. Trustee,

  Tomorrow is the first Wednesday in the month--a weary day for the JohnGrier Home. How relieved they'll be when five o'clock comes and youpat them on the head and take yourselves off! Did you (individually)ever pat me on the head, Daddy? I don't believe so--my memory seems tobe concerned only with fat Trustees.

  Give the Home my love, please--my TRULY love. I have quite a feelingof tenderness for it as I look back through a haze of four years. WhenI first came to college I felt quite resentful because I'd been robbedof the normal kind of childhood that the other girls had had; but now,I don't feel that way in the least. I regard it as a very unusualadventure. It gives me a sort of vantage point from which to standaside and look at life. Emerging full grown, I get a perspective onthe world, that other people who have been brought up in the thick ofthings entirely lack.

  I know lots of girls (Julia, for instance) who never know that they arehappy. They are so accustomed to the feeling that their senses aredeadened to it; but as for me--I am perfectly sure every moment of mylife that I am happy. And I'm going to keep on being, no matter whatunpleasant things turn up. I'm going to regard them (even toothaches)as interesting experiences, and be glad to know what they feel like.'Whatever sky's above me, I've a heart for any fate.'

  However, Daddy, don't take this new affection for the J.G.H. tooliterally. If I have five children, like Rousseau, I shan't leave themon the steps of a foundling asylum in order to insure their beingbrought u
p simply.

  Give my kindest regards to Mrs. Lippett (that, I think, is truthful;love would be a little strong) and don't forget to tell her what abeautiful nature I've developed.

  Affectionately, Judy

  LOCK WILLOW, 4th April

  Dear Daddy,

  Do you observe the postmark? Sallie and I are embellishing Lock Willowwith our presence during the Easter Vacation. We decided that the bestthing we could do with our ten days was to come where it is quiet. Ournerves had got to the point where they wouldn't stand another meal inFergussen. Dining in a room with four hundred girls is an ordeal whenyou are tired. There is so much noise that you can't hear the girlsacross the table speak unless they make their hands into a megaphoneand shout. That is the truth.

  We are tramping over the hills and reading and writing, and having anice, restful time. We climbed to the top of 'Sky Hill' this morningwhere Master Jervie and I once cooked supper--it doesn't seem possiblethat it was nearly two years ago. I could still see the place wherethe smoke of our fire blackened the rock. It is funny how certainplaces get connected with certain people, and you never go back withoutthinking of them. I was quite lonely without him--for two minutes.

  What do you think is my latest activity, Daddy? You will begin tobelieve that I am incorrigible--I am writing a book. I started itthree weeks ago and am eating it up in chunks. I've caught the secret.Master Jervie and that editor man were right; you are most convincingwhen you write about the things you know. And this time it is aboutsomething that I do know--exhaustively. Guess where it's laid? In theJohn Grier Home! And it's good, Daddy, I actually believe it is--justabout the tiny little things that happened every day. I'm a realistnow. I've abandoned romanticism; I shall go back to it later though,when my own adventurous future begins.

  This new book is going to get itself finished--and published! You seeif it doesn't. If you just want a thing hard enough and keep on trying,you do get it in the end. I've been trying for four years to get aletter from you--and I haven't given up hope yet.

  Goodbye, Daddy dear,

  (I like to call you Daddy dear; it's so alliterative.)

  Affectionately, Judy

  PS. I forgot to tell you the farm news, but it's very distressing.Skip this postscript if you don't want your sensibilities all wroughtup.

  Poor old Grove is dead. He got so that he couldn't chew and they hadto shoot him.

  Nine chickens were killed by a weasel or a skunk or a rat last week.

  One of the cows is sick, and we had to have the veterinary surgeon outfrom Bonnyrigg Four Corners. Amasai stayed up all night to give herlinseed oil and whisky. But we have an awful suspicion that the poorsick cow got nothing but linseed oil.

  Sentimental Tommy (the tortoise-shell cat) has disappeared; we areafraid he has been caught in a trap.

  There are lots of troubles in the world!

  17th May

  Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  This is going to be extremely short because my shoulder aches at thesight of a pen. Lecture notes all day, immortal novel all evening,make too much writing.

  Commencement three weeks from next Wednesday. I think you might comeand make my acquaintance--I shall hate you if you don't! Julia'sinviting Master Jervie, he being her family, and Sallie's invitingJimmie McB., he being her family, but who is there for me to invite?Just you and Lippett, and I don't want her. Please come.

  Yours, with love and writer's cramp. Judy

  LOCK WILLOW, 19th June

  Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  I'm educated! My diploma is in the bottom bureau drawer with my twobest dresses. Commencement was as usual, with a few showers at vitalmoments. Thank you for your rosebuds. They were lovely. MasterJervie and Master Jimmie both gave me roses, too, but I left theirs inthe bath tub and carried yours in the class procession.

  Here I am at Lock Willow for the summer--for ever maybe. The board ischeap; the surroundings quiet and conducive to a literary life. Whatmore does a struggling author wish? I am mad about my book. I thinkof it every waking moment, and dream of it at night. All I want ispeace and quiet and lots of time to work (interspersed with nourishingmeals).

  Master Jervie is coming up for a week or so in August, and JimmieMcBride is going to drop in sometime through the summer. He'sconnected with a bond house now, and goes about the country sellingbonds to banks. He's going to combine the 'Farmers' National' at theCorners and me on the same trip.

  You see that Lock Willow isn't entirely lacking in society. I'd beexpecting to have you come motoring through--only I know now that thatis hopeless. When you wouldn't come to my commencement, I tore youfrom my heart and buried you for ever.

  Judy Abbott, A.B.

  24th July

  Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs,

  Isn't it fun to work--or don't you ever do it? It's especially funwhen your kind of work is the thing you'd rather do more than anythingelse in the world. I've been writing as fast as my pen would go everyday this summer, and my only quarrel with life is that the days aren'tlong enough to write all the beautiful and valuable and entertainingthoughts I'm thinking.

  I've finished the second draft of my book and am going to begin thethird tomorrow morning at half-past seven. It's the sweetest book youever saw--it is, truly. I think of nothing else. I can barely wait inthe morning to dress and eat before beginning; then I write and writeand write till suddenly I'm so tired that I'm limp all over. Then I goout with Colin (the new sheep dog) and romp through the fields and geta fresh supply of ideas for the next day. It's the most beautiful bookyou ever saw--Oh, pardon--I said that before.

  You don't think me conceited, do you, Daddy dear?

  I'm not, really, only just now I'm in the enthusiastic stage. Maybelater on I'll get cold and critical and sniffy. No, I'm sure I won't!This time I've written a real book. Just wait till you see it.

  I'll try for a minute to talk about something else. I never told you,did I, that Amasai and Carrie got married last May? They are stillworking here, but so far as I can see it has spoiled them both. Sheused to laugh when he tramped in mud or dropped ashes on the floor, butnow--you should hear her scold! And she doesn't curl her hair anylonger. Amasai, who used to be so obliging about beating rugs andcarrying wood, grumbles if you suggest such a thing. Also his necktiesare quite dingy--black and brown, where they used to be scarlet andpurple. I've determined never to marry. It's a deteriorating process,evidently.

  There isn't much of any farm news. The animals are all in the best ofhealth. The pigs are unusually fat, the cows seem contented and thehens are laying well. Are you interested in poultry? If so, let merecommend that invaluable little work, 200 Eggs per Hen per Year. I amthinking of starting an incubator next spring and raising broilers.You see I'm settled at Lock Willow permanently. I have decided to stayuntil I've written 114 novels like Anthony Trollope's mother. Then Ishall have completed my life work and can retire and travel.

  Mr. James McBride spent last Sunday with us. Fried chicken andice-cream for dinner, both of which he appeared to appreciate. I wasawfully glad to see him; he brought a momentary reminder that the worldat large exists. Poor Jimmie is having a hard time peddling his bonds.The 'Farmers' National' at the Corners wouldn't have anything to dowith them in spite of the fact that they pay six per cent. interestand sometimes seven. I think he'll end up by going home to Worcesterand taking a job in his father's factory. He's too open and confidingand kind-hearted ever to make a successful financier. But to be
themanager of a flourishing overall factory is a very desirable position,don't you think? Just now he turns up his nose at overalls, but he'llcome to them.

  I hope you appreciate the fact that this is a long letter from a personwith writer's cramp. But I still love you, Daddy dear, and I'm veryhappy. With beautiful scenery all about, and lots to eat and acomfortable four-post bed and a ream of blank paper and a pint ofink--what more does one want in the world?

  Yours as always, Judy

  PS. The postman arrives with some more news. We are to expect MasterJervie on Friday next to spend a week. That's a very pleasantprospect--only I am afraid my poor book will suffer. Master Jervie isvery demanding.

  27th August

  Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  Where are you, I wonder?

  I never know what part of the world you are in, but I hope you're notin New York during this awful weather. I hope you're on a mountainpeak (but not in Switzerland; somewhere nearer) looking at the snow andthinking about me. Please be thinking about me. I'm quite lonely andI want to be thought about. Oh, Daddy, I wish I knew you! Then whenwe were unhappy we could cheer each other up.