Daddy-Long-Legs Page 8

  He is an awfully companionable sort of man, though you would neverbelieve it to see him casually; he looks at first glance like a truePendleton, but he isn't in the least. He is just as simple andunaffected and sweet as he can be--that seems a funny way to describe aman, but it's true. He's extremely nice with the farmers around here;he meets them in a sort of man-to-man fashion that disarms themimmediately. They were very suspicious at first. They didn't care forhis clothes! And I will say that his clothes are rather amazing. Hewears knickerbockers and pleated jackets and white flannels and ridingclothes with puffed trousers. Whenever he comes down in anything new,Mrs. Semple, beaming with pride, walks around and views him from everyangle, and urges him to be careful where he sits down; she is so afraidhe will pick up some dust. It bores him dreadfully. He's alwayssaying to her:

  'Run along, Lizzie, and tend to your work. You can't boss me anylonger. I've grown up.'

  It's awfully funny to think of that great big, long-legged man (he'snearly as long-legged as you, Daddy) ever sitting in Mrs. Semple's lapand having his face washed. Particularly funny when you see her lap!She has two laps now, and three chins. But he says that once she wasthin and wiry and spry and could run faster than he.

  Such a lot of adventures we're having! We've explored the country formiles, and I've learned to fish with funny little flies made offeathers. Also to shoot with a rifle and a revolver. Also to ridehorseback--there's an astonishing amount of life in old Grove. We fedhim on oats for three days, and he shied at a calf and almost ran awaywith me.

  Wednesday

  We climbed Sky Hill Monday afternoon. That's a mountain near here; notan awfully high mountain, perhaps--no snow on the summit--but at leastyou are pretty breathless when you reach the top. The lower slopes arecovered with woods, but the top is just piled rocks and open moor. Westayed up for the sunset and built a fire and cooked our supper.Master Jervie did the cooking; he said he knew how better than me andhe did, too, because he's used to camping. Then we came down bymoonlight, and, when we reached the wood trail where it was dark, bythe light of an electric bulb that he had in his pocket. It was suchfun! He laughed and joked all the way and talked about interestingthings. He's read all the books I've ever read, and a lot of othersbesides. It's astonishing how many different things he knows.

  We went for a long tramp this morning and got caught in a storm. Ourclothes were drenched before we reached home but our spirits not evendamp. You should have seen Mrs. Semple's face when we dripped into herkitchen.

  'Oh, Master Jervie--Miss Judy! You are soaked through. Dear! Dear!What shall I do? That nice new coat is perfectly ruined.'

  She was awfully funny; you would have thought that we were ten yearsold, and she a distracted mother. I was afraid for a while that weweren't going to get any jam for tea.

  Saturday

  I started this letter ages ago, but I haven't had a second to finish it.

  Isn't this a nice thought from Stevenson?

  The world is so full of a number of things, I am sure we should all be as happy as kings.

  It's true, you know. The world is full of happiness, and plenty to goround, if you are only willing to take the kind that comes your way.The whole secret is in being PLIABLE. In the country, especially,there are such a lot of entertaining things. I can walk overeverybody's land, and look at everybody's view, and dabble ineverybody's brook; and enjoy it just as much as though I owned theland--and with no taxes to pay!

  It's Sunday night now, about eleven o'clock, and I am supposed to begetting some beauty sleep, but I had black coffee for dinner, so--nobeauty sleep for me!

  This morning, said Mrs. Semple to Mr. Pendleton, with a very determinedaccent:

  'We have to leave here at a quarter past ten in order to get to churchby eleven.'

  'Very well, Lizzie,' said Master Jervie, 'you have the buggy ready, andif I'm not dressed, just go on without waiting.' 'We'll wait,' saidshe.

  'As you please,' said he, 'only don't keep the horses standing toolong.'

  Then while she was dressing, he told Carrie to pack up a lunch, and hetold me to scramble into my walking clothes; and we slipped out theback way and went fishing.

  It discommoded the household dreadfully, because Lock Willow of aSunday dines at two. But he ordered dinner at seven--he orders mealswhenever he chooses; you would think the place were a restaurant--andthat kept Carrie and Amasai from going driving. But he said it was allthe better because it wasn't proper for them to go driving without achaperon; and anyway, he wanted the horses himself to take me driving.Did you ever hear anything so funny?

  And poor Mrs. Semple believes that people who go fishing on Sundays goafterwards to a sizzling hot hell! She is awfully troubled to thinkthat she didn't train him better when he was small and helpless and shehad the chance. Besides--she wished to show him off in church.

  Anyway, we had our fishing (he caught four little ones) and we cookedthem on a camp-fire for lunch. They kept falling off our spiked sticksinto the fire, so they tasted a little ashy, but we ate them. We gothome at four and went driving at five and had dinner at seven, and atten I was sent to bed and here I am, writing to you.

  I am getting a little sleepy, though.

  Good night.

  Here is a picture of the one fish I caught.

  Ship Ahoy, Cap'n Long-Legs!

  Avast! Belay! Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum. Guess what I'mreading? Our conversation these past two days has been nautical andpiratical. Isn't Treasure Island fun? Did you ever read it, or wasn'tit written when you were a boy? Stevenson only got thirty pounds forthe serial rights--I don't believe it pays to be a great author. MaybeI'll be a school-teacher.

  Excuse me for filling my letters so full of Stevenson; my mind is verymuch engaged with him at present. He comprises Lock Willow's library.

  I've been writing this letter for two weeks, and I think it's aboutlong enough. Never say, Daddy, that I don't give details. I wish youwere here, too; we'd all have such a jolly time together. I like mydifferent friends to know each other. I wanted to ask Mr. Pendleton ifhe knew you in New York--I should think he might; you must move inabout the same exalted social circles, and you are both interested inreforms and things--but I couldn't, for I don't know your real name.

  It's the silliest thing I ever heard of, not to know your name. Mrs.Lippett warned me that you were eccentric. I should think so!

  Affectionately, Judy

  PS. On reading this over, I find that it isn't all Stevenson. Thereare one or two glancing references to Master Jervie.

  10th September

  Dear Daddy,

  He has gone, and we are missing him! When you get accustomed to peopleor places or ways of living, and then have them snatched away, it doesleave an awfully empty, gnawing sort of sensation. I'm finding Mrs.Semple's conversation pretty unseasoned food.

  College opens in two weeks and I shall be glad to begin work again. Ihave worked quite a lot this summer though--six short stories and sevenpoems. Those I sent to the magazines all came back with the mostcourteous promptitude. But I don't mind. It's good practice. MasterJervie read them--he brought in the post, so I couldn't help hisknowing--and he said they were DREADFUL. They showed that I didn'thave the slightest idea of what I was talking about. (Master Jerviedoesn't let politeness interfere with truth.) But the last one Idid--just a little sketch laid in college--he said wasn't bad; and hehad it typewritten, and I sent it to a magazine. They've had it twoweeks; maybe they're thinking it over.

  You should see the sky! There's the queerest orange-coloured lightover everything. We're going to have a storm.

  It commenced just that moment with tremendously big drops and all theshutte
rs banging. I had to run to close the windows, while Carrie flewto the attic with an armful of milk pans to put under the places wherethe roof leaks and then, just as I was resuming my pen, I rememberedthat I'd left a cushion and rug and hat and Matthew Arnold's poemsunder a tree in the orchard, so I dashed out to get them, all quitesoaked. The red cover of the poems had run into the inside; DoverBeach in the future will be washed by pink waves.

  A storm is awfully disturbing in the country. You are always having tothink of so many things that are out of doors and getting spoiled.

  Thursday

  Daddy! Daddy! What do you think? The postman has just come with twoletters.

  1st. My story is accepted. $50.

  ALORS! I'm an AUTHOR.

  2nd. A letter from the college secretary. I'm to have a scholarshipfor two years that will cover board and tuition. It was founded for'marked proficiency in English with general excellency in other lines.'And I've won it! I applied for it before I left, but I didn't have anidea I'd get it, on account of my Freshman bad work in maths and Latin.But it seems I've made it up. I am awfully glad, Daddy, because now Iwon't be such a burden to you. The monthly allowance will be all I'llneed, and maybe I can earn that with writing or tutoring or something.

  I'm LONGING to go back and begin work.

  Yours ever, Jerusha Abbott,

  Author of When the Sophomores Won the Game. For sale at all news stands, price ten cents.

  26th September

  Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  Back at college again and an upper classman. Our study is better thanever this year--faces the South with two huge windows and oh! sofurnished. Julia, with an unlimited allowance, arrived two days earlyand was attacked with a fever for settling.

  We have new wall paper and oriental rugs and mahogany chairs--notpainted mahogany which made us sufficiently happy last year, but real.It's very gorgeous, but I don't feel as though I belonged in it; I'mnervous all the time for fear I'll get an ink spot in the wrong place.

  And, Daddy, I found your letter waiting for me--pardon--I mean yoursecretary's.

  Will you kindly convey to me a comprehensible reason why I should notaccept that scholarship? I don't understand your objection in theleast. But anyway, it won't do the slightest good for you to object,for I've already accepted it and I am not going to change! That soundsa little impertinent, but I don't mean it so.

  I suppose you feel that when you set out to educate me, you'd like tofinish the work, and put a neat period, in the shape of a diploma, atthe end.

  But look at it just a second from my point of view. I shall owe myeducation to you just as much as though I let you pay for the whole ofit, but I won't be quite so much indebted. I know that you don't wantme to return the money, but nevertheless, I am going to want to do it,if I possibly can; and winning this scholarship makes it so mucheasier. I was expecting to spend the rest of my life in paying mydebts, but now I shall only have to spend one-half of the rest of it.

  I hope you understand my position and won't be cross. The allowance Ishall still most gratefully accept. It requires an allowance to liveup to Julia and her furniture! I wish that she had been reared tosimpler tastes, or else that she were not my room-mate.

  This isn't much of a letter; I meant to have written a lot--but I'vebeen hemming four window curtains and three portieres (I'm glad youcan't see the length of the stitches), and polishing a brass desk setwith tooth powder (very uphill work), and sawing off picture wire withmanicure scissors, and unpacking four boxes of books, and putting awaytwo trunkfuls of clothes (it doesn't seem believable that JerushaAbbott owns two trunks full of clothes, but she does!) and welcomingback fifty dear friends in between.

  Opening day is a joyous occasion!

  Good night, Daddy dear, and don't be annoyed because your chick iswanting to scratch for herself. She's growing up into an awfullyenergetic little hen--with a very determined cluck and lots ofbeautiful feathers (all due to you).

  Affectionately, Judy

  30th September

  Dear Daddy,

  Are you still harping on that scholarship? I never knew a man soobstinate, and stubborn and unreasonable, and tenacious, andbull-doggish, and unable-to-see-other-people's-point-of-view, as you.

  You prefer that I should not be accepting favours from strangers.

  Strangers!--And what are you, pray?

  Is there anyone in the world that I know less? I shouldn't recognizeyou if I met you in the street. Now, you see, if you had been a sane,sensible person and had written nice, cheering fatherly letters to yourlittle Judy, and had come occasionally and patted her on the head, andhad said you were glad she was such a good girl--Then, perhaps, shewouldn't have flouted you in your old age, but would have obeyed yourslightest wish like the dutiful daughter she was meant to be.

  Strangers indeed! You live in a glass house, Mr. Smith.

  And besides, this isn't a favour; it's like a prize--I earned it byhard work. If nobody had been good enough in English, the committeewouldn't have awarded the scholarship; some years they don't. Also--But what's the use of arguing with a man? You belong, Mr. Smith, to asex devoid of a sense of logic. To bring a man into line, there arejust two methods: one must either coax or be disagreeable. I scorn tocoax men for what I wish. Therefore, I must be disagreeable.

  I refuse, sir, to give up the scholarship; and if you make any morefuss, I won't accept the monthly allowance either, but will wear myselfinto a nervous wreck tutoring stupid Freshmen.

  That is my ultimatum!

  And listen--I have a further thought. Since you are so afraid that bytaking this scholarship I am depriving someone else of an education, Iknow a way out. You can apply the money that you would have spent forme towards educating some other little girl from the John Grier Home.Don't you think that's a nice idea? Only, Daddy, EDUCATE the new girlas much as you choose, but please don't LIKE her any better than me.

  I trust that your secretary won't be hurt because I pay so littleattention to the suggestions offered in his letter, but I can't help itif he is. He's a spoiled child, Daddy. I've meekly given in to hiswhims heretofore, but this time I intend to be FIRM.

  Yours, With a mind, Completely and Irrevocably and World-without-End Made-up,

  Jerusha Abbott

  9th November

  Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  I started down town today to buy a bottle of shoe blacking and somecollars and the material for a new blouse and a jar of violet cream anda cake of Castile soap--all very necessary; I couldn't be happy anotherday without them--and when I tried to pay the car fare, I found that Ihad left my purse in the pocket of my other coat. So I had to get outand take the next car, and was late for gymnasium.

  It's a dreadful thing to have no memory and two coats!

  Julia Pendleton has invited me to visit her for the Christmas holidays.How does that strike you, Mr. Smith? Fancy Jerusha Abbott, of the JohnGrier Home, sitting at the tables of the rich. I don't know why Juliawants me--she seems to be getting quite attached to me of late. Ishould, to tell the truth, very much prefer going to Sallie's, butJulia asked me first, so if I go anywhere it must be to New Yorkinstead of to Worcester. I'm rather awed at the prospect of meetingPendletons EN MASSE, and also I'd have to get a lot of new clothes--so,Daddy dear, if you write that you would prefer having me remain quietlyat college, I will bow to your wishes with my usual sweet docility.

  I'm engaged at odd moments with the Life and Letters of ThomasHuxley--it makes nice, light reading to pick up between times. Do y
ouknow what an archaeopteryx is? It's a bird. And a stereognathus? I'mnot sure myself, but I think it's a missing link, like a bird withteeth or a lizard with wings. No, it isn't either; I've just looked inthe book. It's a mesozoic mammal.

  I've elected economics this year--very illuminating subject. When Ifinish that I'm going to take Charity and Reform; then, Mr. Trustee,I'll know just how an orphan asylum ought to be run. Don't you thinkI'd make an admirable voter if I had my rights? I was twenty-one lastweek. This is an awfully wasteful country to throw away such anhonest, educated, conscientious, intelligent citizen as I would be.

  Yours always, Judy

  7th December

  Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

  Thank you for permission to visit Julia--I take it that silence meansconsent.

  Such a social whirl as we've been having! The Founder's dance camelast week--this was the first year that any of us could attend; onlyupper classmen being allowed.

  I invited Jimmie McBride, and Sallie invited his room-mate atPrinceton, who visited them last summer at their camp--an awfully niceman with red hair--and Julia invited a man from New York, not veryexciting, but socially irreproachable. He is connected with the De laMater Chichesters. Perhaps that means something to you? It doesn'tilluminate me to any extent.

  However--our guests came Friday afternoon in time for tea in the seniorcorridor, and then dashed down to the hotel for dinner. The hotel wasso full that they slept in rows on the billiard tables, they say.Jimmie McBride says that the next time he is bidden to a social eventin this college, he is going to bring one of their Adirondack tents andpitch it on the campus.