Daddy-Long-Legs Read online

  Thursday

  When I came in from laboratory this afternoon, I found a squirrelsitting on the tea table helping himself to almonds. These are thekind of callers we entertain now that warm weather has come and thewindows stay open--

  Saturday morning

  Perhaps you think, last night being Friday, with no classes today, thatI passed a nice quiet, readable evening with the set of Stevenson thatI bought with my prize money? But if so, you've never attended agirls' college, Daddy dear. Six friends dropped in to make fudge, andone of them dropped the fudge--while it was still liquid--right in themiddle of our best rug. We shall never be able to clean up the mess.

  I haven't mentioned any lessons of late; but we are still having themevery day. It's sort of a relief though, to get away from them anddiscuss life in the large--rather one-sided discussions that you and Ihold, but that's your own fault. You are welcome to answer back anytime you choose.

  I've been writing this letter off and on for three days, and I fear bynow vous etes bien bored!

  Goodbye, nice Mr. Man, Judy

  Mr. Daddy-Long-Legs Smith,

  SIR: Having completed the study of argumentation and the science ofdividing a thesis into heads, I have decided to adopt the followingform for letter-writing. It contains all necessary facts, but nounnecessary verbiage.

  I. We had written examinations this week in: A. Chemistry. B. History.

  II. A new dormitory is being built. A. Its material is: (a) red brick. (b) grey stone. B. Its capacity will be: (a) one dean, five instructors. (b) two hundred girls. (c) one housekeeper, three cooks, twenty waitresses, twenty chambermaids.

  III. We had junket for dessert tonight.

  IV. I am writing a special topic upon the Sources of Shakespeare'sPlays.

  V. Lou McMahon slipped and fell this afternoon at basket ball, and she: A. Dislocated her shoulder. B. Bruised her knee.

  VI. I have a new hat trimmed with: A. Blue velvet ribbon. B. Two blue quills. C. Three red pompoms.

  VII. It is half past nine.

  VIII. Good night.

  Judy

  2nd June

  Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  You will never guess the nice thing that has happened.

  The McBrides have asked me to spend the summer at their camp in theAdirondacks! They belong to a sort of club on a lovely little lake inthe middle of the woods. The different members have houses made oflogs dotted about among the trees, and they go canoeing on the lake,and take long walks through trails to other camps, and have dances oncea week in the club house--Jimmie McBride is going to have a collegefriend visiting him part of the summer, so you see we shall have plentyof men to dance with.

  Wasn't it sweet of Mrs. McBride to ask me? It appears that she likedme when I was there for Christmas.

  Please excuse this being short. It isn't a real letter; it's just tolet you know that I'm disposed of for the summer.

  Yours, In a VERY contented frame of mind, Judy

  5th June

  Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  Your secretary man has just written to me saying that Mr. Smith prefersthat I should not accept Mrs. McBride's invitation, but should returnto Lock Willow the same as last summer.

  Why, why, WHY, Daddy?

  You don't understand about it. Mrs. McBride does want me, really andtruly. I'm not the least bit of trouble in the house. I'm a help.They don't take up many servants, and Sallie an I can do lots of usefulthings. It's a fine chance for me to learn housekeeping. Every womanought to understand it, and I only know asylum-keeping.

  There aren't any girls our age at the camp, and Mrs. McBride wants mefor a companion for Sallie. We are planning to do a lot of readingtogether. We are going to read all of the books for next year'sEnglish and sociology. The Professor said it would be a great help ifwe would get our reading finished in the summer; and it's so mucheasier to remember it if we read together and talk it over.

  Just to live in the same house with Sallie's mother is an education.She's the most interesting, entertaining, companionable, charming womanin the world; she knows everything. Think how many summers I've spentwith Mrs. Lippett and how I'll appreciate the contrast. You needn't beafraid that I'll be crowding them, for their house is made of rubber.When they have a lot of company, they just sprinkle tents about in thewoods and turn the boys outside. It's going to be such a nice, healthysummer exercising out of doors every minute. Jimmie McBride is goingto teach me how to ride horseback and paddle a canoe, and how to shootand--oh, lots of things I ought to know. It's the kind of nice, jolly,care-free time that I've never had; and I think every girl deserves itonce in her life. Of course I'll do exactly as you say, but please,PLEASE let me go, Daddy. I've never wanted anything so much.

  This isn't Jerusha Abbott, the future great author, writing to you.It's just Judy--a girl.

  9th June

  Mr. John Smith,

  SIR: Yours of the 7th inst. at hand. In compliance with theinstructions received through your secretary, I leave on Friday next tospend the summer at Lock Willow Farm.

  I hope always to remain, (Miss) Jerusha Abbott

  LOCK WILLOW FARM, 3rd August

  Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  It has been nearly two months since I wrote, which wasn't nice of me, Iknow, but I haven't loved you much this summer--you see I'm being frank!

  You can't imagine how disappointed I was at having to give up theMcBrides' camp. Of course I know that you're my guardian, and that Ihave to regard your wishes in all matters, but I couldn't see anyREASON. It was so distinctly the best thing that could have happenedto me. If I had been Daddy, and you had been Judy, I should have said,'Bless you my child, run along and have a good time; see lots of newpeople and learn lots of new things; live out of doors, and get strongand well and rested for a year of hard work.'

  But not at all! Just a curt line from your secretary ordering me toLock Willow.

  It's the impersonality of your commands that hurts my feelings. Itseems as though, if you felt the tiniest little bit for me the way Ifeel for you, you'd sometimes send me a message that you'd written withyour own hand, instead of those beastly typewritten secretary's notes.If there were the slightest hint that you cared, I'd do anything onearth to please you.

  I know that I was to write nice, long, detailed letters without everexpecting any answer. You're living up to your side of thebargain--I'm being educated--and I suppose you're thinking I'm notliving up to mine!

  But, Daddy, it is a hard bargain. It is, really. I'm so awfullylonely. You are the only person I have to care for, and you are soshadowy. You're just an imaginary man that I've made up--and probablythe real YOU isn't a bit like my imaginary YOU. But you did once, whenI was ill in the infirmary, send me a message, and now, when I amfeeling awfully forgotten, I get out your card and read it over.

  I don't think I am telling you at all what I started to say, which wasthis:

  Although my feelings are still hurt, for it is very humiliating to bepicked up and moved about by an arbitrary, peremptory, unreasonable,omnipotent, invisible Providence, still, when a man has been as kindand generous and thoughtful as you have heretofore been towards me, Isuppose he has a right to be an arbitrary, peremptory, unreasonable,invisible Providence if he chooses, and so--I'll forgive you and becheerful again. But I still don't enjoy getting Sallie's letters aboutthe good times they
are having in camp!

  However--we will draw a veil over that and begin again.

  I've been writing and writing this summer; four short stories finishedand sent to four different magazines. So you see I'm trying to be anauthor. I have a workroom fixed in a corner of the attic where MasterJervie used to have his rainy-day playroom. It's in a cool, breezycorner with two dormer windows, and shaded by a maple tree with afamily of red squirrels living in a hole.

  I'll write a nicer letter in a few days and tell you all the farm news.

  We need rain.

  Yours as ever, Judy

  10th August

  Mr. Daddy-Long-Legs,

  SIR: I address you from the second crotch in the willow tree by thepool in the pasture. There's a frog croaking underneath, a locustsinging overhead and two little 'devil downheads' darting up and downthe trunk. I've been here for an hour; it's a very comfortable crotch,especially after being upholstered with two sofa cushions. I came upwith a pen and tablet hoping to write an immortal short story, but I'vebeen having a dreadful time with my heroine--I CAN'T make her behave asI want her to behave; so I've abandoned her for the moment, and amwriting to you. (Not much relief though, for I can't make you behaveas I want you to, either.)

  If you are in that dreadful New York, I wish I could send you some ofthis lovely, breezy, sunshiny outlook. The country is Heaven after aweek of rain.

  Speaking of Heaven--do you remember Mr. Kellogg that I told you aboutlast summer?--the minister of the little white church at the Corners.Well, the poor old soul is dead--last winter of pneumonia. I went halfa dozen times to hear him preach and got very well acquainted with histheology. He believed to the end exactly the same things he startedwith. It seems to me that a man who can think straight along forforty-seven years without changing a single idea ought to be kept in acabinet as a curiosity. I hope he is enjoying his harp and goldencrown; he was so perfectly sure of finding them! There's a new youngman, very consequential, in his place. The congregation is prettydubious, especially the faction led by Deacon Cummings. It looks asthough there was going to be an awful split in the church. We don'tcare for innovations in religion in this neighbourhood.

  During our week of rain I sat up in the attic and had an orgy ofreading--Stevenson, mostly. He himself is more entertaining than anyof the characters in his books; I dare say he made himself into thekind of hero that would look well in print. Don't you think it wasperfect of him to spend all the ten thousand dollars his father left,for a yacht, and go sailing off to the South Seas? He lived up to hisadventurous creed. If my father had left me ten thousand dollars, I'ddo it, too. The thought of Vailima makes me wild. I want to see thetropics. I want to see the whole world. I am going to be a greatauthor, or artist, or actress, or playwright--or whatever sort of agreat person I turn out to be. I have a terrible wanderthirst; thevery sight of a map makes me want to put on my hat and take an umbrellaand start. 'I shall see before I die the palms and temples of theSouth.'

  Thursday evening at twilight, sitting on the doorstep.

  Very hard to get any news into this letter! Judy is becoming sophilosophical of late, that she wishes to discourse largely of theworld in general, instead of descending to the trivial details of dailylife. But if you MUST have news, here it is:

  Our nine young pigs waded across the brook and ran away last Tuesday,and only eight came back. We don't want to accuse anyone unjustly, butwe suspect that Widow Dowd has one more than she ought to have.

  Mr. Weaver has painted his barn and his two silos a bright pumpkinyellow--a very ugly colour, but he says it will wear.

  The Brewers have company this week; Mrs. Brewer's sister and two niecesfrom Ohio.

  One of our Rhode Island Reds only brought off three chicks out offifteen eggs. We can't imagine what was the trouble. Rhode islandReds, in my opinion, are a very inferior breed. I prefer BuffOrpingtons.

  The new clerk in the post office at Bonnyrigg Four Corners drank everydrop of Jamaica ginger they had in stock--seven dollars' worth--beforehe was discovered.

  Old Ira Hatch has rheumatism and can't work any more; he never savedhis money when he was earning good wages, so now he has to live on thetown.

  There's to be an ice-cream social at the schoolhouse next Saturdayevening. Come and bring your families.

  I have a new hat that I bought for twenty-five cents at the postoffice. This is my latest portrait, on my way to rake the hay.

  It's getting too dark to see; anyway, the news is all used up.

  Good night, Judy

  Friday

  Good morning! Here is some news! What do you think? You'd never,never, never guess who's coming to Lock Willow. A letter to Mrs.Semple from Mr. Pendleton. He's motoring through the Berkshires, andis tired and wants to rest on a nice quiet farm--if he climbs out ather doorstep some night will she have a room ready for him? Maybehe'll stay one week, or maybe two, or maybe three; he'll see howrestful it is when he gets here.

  Such a flutter as we are in! The whole house is being cleaned and allthe curtains washed. I am driving to the Corners this morning to getsome new oilcloth for the entry, and two cans of brown floor paint forthe hall and back stairs. Mrs. Dowd is engaged to come tomorrow towash the windows (in the exigency of the moment, we waive oursuspicions in regard to the piglet). You might think, from this accountof our activities, that the house was not already immaculate; but Iassure you it was! Whatever Mrs. Semple's limitations, she is aHOUSEKEEPER.

  But isn't it just like a man, Daddy? He doesn't give the remotest hintas to whether he will land on the doorstep today, or two weeks fromtoday. We shall live in a perpetual breathlessness until he comes--andif he doesn't hurry, the cleaning may all have to be done over again.

  There's Amasai waiting below with the buckboard and Grover. I drivealone--but if you could see old Grove, you wouldn't be worried as to mysafety.

  With my hand on my heart--farewell.

  Judy

  PS. Isn't that a nice ending? I got it out of Stevenson's letters.

  Saturday

  Good morning again! I didn't get this ENVELOPED yesterday before thepostman came, so I'll add some more. We have one mail a day at twelveo'clock. Rural delivery is a blessing to the farmers! Our postman notonly delivers letters, but he runs errands for us in town, at fivecents an errand. Yesterday he brought me some shoe-strings and a jarof cold cream (I sunburned all the skin off my nose before I got my newhat) and a blue Windsor tie and a bottle of blacking all for ten cents.That was an unusual bargain, owing to the largeness of my order.

  Also he tells us what is happening in the Great World. Several peopleon the route take daily papers, and he reads them as he jogs along, andrepeats the news to the ones who don't subscribe. So in case a warbreaks out between the United States and Japan, or the president isassassinated, or Mr. Rockefeller leaves a million dollars to the JohnGrier Home, you needn't bother to write; I'll hear it anyway.

  No sign yet of Master Jervie. But you should see how clean our houseis--and with what anxiety we wipe our feet before we step in!

  I hope he'll come soon; I am longing for someone to talk to. Mrs.Semple, to tell you the truth, gets rather monotonous. She never letsideas interrupt the easy flow of her conversation. It's a funny thingabout the people here. Their world is just this single hilltop. Theyare not a bit universal, if you know what I mean. It's exactly thesame as at the John Grier Home. Our ideas there were bounded by thefour sides of the iron fence, only I didn't mind it so much because Iwas younger, and was so awfully busy. By the time I'd got all my bedsmade and my babies' faces wash
ed and had gone to school and come homeand had washed their faces again and darned their stockings and mendedFreddie Perkins's trousers (he tore them every day of his life) andlearned my lessons in between--I was ready to go to bed, and I didn'tnotice any lack of social intercourse. But after two years in aconversational college, I do miss it; and I shall be glad to seesomebody who speaks my language.

  I really believe I've finished, Daddy. Nothing else occurs to me atthe moment--I'll try to write a longer letter next time.

  Yours always, Judy

  PS. The lettuce hasn't done at all well this year. It was so dryearly in the season.

  25th August

  Well, Daddy, Master Jervie's here. And such a nice time as we'rehaving! At least I am, and I think he is, too--he has been here tendays and he doesn't show any signs of going. The way Mrs. Semplepampers that man is scandalous. If she indulged him as much when hewas a baby, I don't know how he ever turned out so well.

  He and I eat at a little table set on the side porch, or sometimesunder the trees, or--when it rains or is cold--in the best parlour. Hejust picks out the spot he wants to eat in and Carrie trots after himwith the table. Then if it has been an awful nuisance, and she has hadto carry the dishes very far, she finds a dollar under the sugar bowl.