dropped in again last Friday--but he chose a most unpropitious time,
for Sallie and Julia and I were just running to catch a train.
And where do you think we were going? To Princeton, to attend a dance
and a ball game, if you please! I didn't ask you if I might go,
because I had a feeling that your secretary would say no. But it
was entirely regular; we had leave-of-absence from college, and Mrs.
McBride chaperoned us. We had a charming time--but I shall have to
omit details; they are too many and complicated.
Saturday
Up before dawn! The night watchman called us--six of us--and we
made coffee in a chafing dish (you never saw so many grounds!)
and walked two miles to the top of One Tree Hill to see the sun rise.
We had to scramble up the last slope! The sun almost beat us!
And perhaps you think we didn't bring back appetites to breakfast!
Dear me, Daddy, I seem to have a very ejaculatory style today;
this page is peppered with exclamations.
I meant to have written a lot about the budding trees and the new
cinder path in the athletic field, and the awful lesson we have in
biology for tomorrow, and the new canoes on the lake, and Catherine
Prentiss who has pneumonia, and Prexy's Angora kitten that strayed
from home and has been boarding in Fergussen Hall for two weeks
until a chambermaid reported it, and about my three new dresses--
white and pink and blue polka dots with a hat to match--but I am
too sleepy. I am always making this an excuse, am I not? But a girls'
college is a busy place and we do get tired by the end of the day!
Particularly when the day begins at dawn.
Affectionately,
Judy
15th May
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Is it good manners when you get into a car just to stare straight
ahead and not see anybody else?
A very beautiful lady in a very beautiful velvet dress got
into the car today, and without the slightest expression sat
for fifteen minutes and looked at a sign advertising suspenders.
It doesn't seem polite to ignore everybody else as though you
were the only important person present. Anyway, you miss a lot.
While she was absorbing that silly sign, I was studying a whole car
full of interesting human beings.
The accompanying illustration is hereby reproduced for the first time.
It looks like a spider on the end of a string, but it isn't at all;
it's a picture of me learning to swim in the tank in the gymnasium.
The instructor hooks a rope into a ring in the back of my belt, and runs
it through a pulley in the ceiling. It would be a beautiful system
if one had perfect confidence in the probity of one's instructor.
I'm always afraid, though, that she will let the rope get slack,
so I keep one anxious eye on her and swim with the other,
and with this divided interest I do not make the progress that I
otherwise might.
Very miscellaneous weather we're having of late. It was raining
when I commenced and now the sun is shining. Sallie and I are going
out to play tennis--thereby gaining exemption from Gym.
A week later
I should have finished this letter long ago, but I didn't. You
don't mind, do you, Daddy, if I'm not very regular? I really
do love to write to you; it gives me such a respectable feeling
of having some family. Would you like me to tell you something?
You are not the only man to whom I write letters. There are
two others! I have been receiving beautiful long letters this
winter from Master Jervie (with typewritten envelopes so Julia won't
recognize the writing). Did you ever hear anything so shocking?
And every week or so a very scrawly epistle, usually on yellow
tablet paper, arrives from Princeton. All of which I answer
with business-like promptness. So you see--I am not so different
from other girls--I get letters, too.
Did I tell you that I have been elected a member of the Senior
Dramatic Club? Very recherche organization. Only seventy-five
members out of one thousand. Do you think as a consistent Socialist
that I ought to belong?
What do you suppose is at present engaging my attention in sociology?
I am writing (figurez vous!) a paper on the Care of Dependent Children.
The Professor shuffled up his subjects and dealt them out promiscuously,
and that fell to me. C'est drole ca n'est pas?
There goes the gong for dinner. I'll post this as I pass the box.
Affectionately,
J.
4th June
Dear Daddy,
Very busy time--commencement in ten days, examinations tomorrow;
lots of studying, lots of packing, and the outdoor world so lovely
that it hurts you to stay inside.
But never mind, vacation's coming. Julia is going abroad this summer--
it makes the fourth time. No doubt about it, Daddy, goods are not
distributed evenly. Sallie, as usual, goes to the Adirondacks.
And what do you think I am going to do? You may have three guesses.
Lock Willow? Wrong. The Adirondacks with Sallie? Wrong.
(I'll never attempt that again; I was discouraged last year.)
Can't you guess anything else? You're not very inventive.
I'll tell you, Daddy, if you'll promise not to make a lot of objections.
I warn your secretary in advance that my mind is made up.
I am going to spend the summer at the seaside with a Mrs. Charles
Paterson and tutor her daughter who is to enter college in the autumn.
I met her through the McBrides, and she is a very charming woman.
I am to give lessons in English and Latin to the younger daughter,
too, but I shall have a little time to myself, and I shall be earning
fifty dollars a month! Doesn't that impress you as a perfectly
exorbitant amount? She offered it; I should have blushed to ask
for more than twenty-five.
I finish at Magnolia (that's where she lives) the first of September,
and shall probably spend the remaining three weeks at Lock Willow--
I should like to see the Semples again and all the friendly animals.
How does my programme strike you, Daddy?
I am getting quite independent, you see.
You have put me on my feet and I think I can almost walk alone by now.
Princeton commencement and our examinations exactly coincide--
which is an 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
rested and ready for another year of work. (That's what you ought
to be writing to me!) I haven't any idea what you do in the summer,
or how you amuse yourself. I can't visualize your surroundings.
Do you play golf 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 must do, and there isn't going to be any turning back.
It is very sweet and generous and dear of you to wish to send me
to Europe this summer--for the moment I was intoxicated by the idea;
but sober second thoughts said no. It would be rather illogical of me
to refuse to take your money for college, and then use it instead
just for amusement! You mustn't get me used to too many luxuries.
One doesn't miss what one has never had; but it's awfully hard
going without things after one has commenced thinking they are his--
hers (English language needs another pronoun) by natural right.
Living with Sallie and Julia is an awful strain on my stoical philosophy.
They have both had things from the time they were babies;
they accept happiness as a matter of course. The World, they think,
owes them everything they want. Maybe the World does--in any case,
it seems to acknowledge the debt and pay up. But as for 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 when the
World will repudiate my claim.
I seem to be floundering in a sea of metaphor--but I hope you
grasp my meaning? Anyway, I have a very strong feeling that the
only honest thing 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?
The maid arrived with Master Jervie's card. He is going abroad
too this summer; not with Julia and her family, but entirely by
himself I told him that you had invited me to go with a lady who is
chaperoning a party of girls. He knows about you, Daddy. That is,
he knows that my father and mother are dead, and that a kind gentleman
is sending me to college; I simply didn't have the courage to tell
him about the John Grier Home and all the rest. He thinks that you
are my guardian and a perfectly legitimate old family friend.
I have never told him that I didn't know you--that would seem
too queer!
Anyway, he insisted on my going to Europe. He said that it
was a necessary 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 run away 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
been so dictatorial, maybe I should have entirely weakened.
I can be enticed step by step, but I WON'T be forced. He said I
was a silly, foolish, irrational, quixotic, idiotic, stubborn child
(those are a few of his abusive adjectives; the rest escape me),
and that I didn't know what was good for me; I ought to let older
people judge. We almost quarrelled--I am not sure but that we
entirely did!
In any case, I packed my trunk fast and came up here. I thought
I'd better see my bridges in flames behind me before I finished
writing to you. They are entirely reduced to ashes now.
Here I am at Cliff Top (the name of Mrs. Paterson's cottage) with my
trunk unpacked and Florence (the little one) already struggling
with first declension nouns. And it bids fair to be a struggle!
She is a most uncommonly spoiled child; I shall have to teach
her first how to study--she has never in her life concentrated
on anything more difficult than ice-cream soda water.
We use a quiet corner of the cliffs for a schoolroom--Mrs. Paterson wishes
me to keep them out of doors--and I will say that I find it difficult
to concentrate with the blue sea before me and ships a-sailing by!
And when I think I might be on one, sailing off to foreign lands--
but I WON'T let myself think of anything but Latin Grammar.
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 eyes
persistently set against temptation. Don't be cross with me,
please, and don't think that I do not appreciate your kindness,
for I do--always--always. The only way I can ever repay you
is by turning out a Very Useful Citizen (Are women citizens?
I don't suppose they are.) Anyway, a Very Useful Person. And when you
look at me you can say, `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 is fun to plan a career, but in all probability I shan't turn
out a bit different from any other ordinary person. I may end by
marrying an undertaker 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
and algebra and my two stupid girls. I don't know how Marion is
ever going to get into college, or stay in after she gets there.
And as for Florence, she is hopeless--but oh! such a little beauty.
I don't suppose it matters in the least whether they are stupid
or not so long as they are pretty? One can't help thinking, though,
how their conversation will bore their husbands, unless they
are fortunate enough to obtain stupid husbands. I suppose that's
quite possible; the world seems 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
is right. I can swim in salt water with the utmost ease you see
my education is already being put to use!
A letter comes from Mr. Jervis Pendleton in Paris, rather a short
concise letter; I'm not quite forgiven yet for refusing to follow
his advice. However, if he gets back in time, he will see me
for a few days at Lock Willow before college opens, and if I
am very nice and sweet and docile, I shall (I am led to infer)
be received into favour again.
Also a letter from Sallie. She wants me to come to their camp
for two weeks in September. Must I ask your permission, or haven't
I yet arrived at the place where I can do as I please? Yes, I am
sure I have--I'm a Senior, you know. Having worked all summer,
I feel like taking a little healthful recreation; I want to see
the Adirondacks; I want to see Sallie; I want to see Sallie's brother--
he's going to teach me to canoe--and (we come to my chief motive,
which is mean) I want Master 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 me but 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 your instructions to be obeyed, you must have your secretary
transmit them in less than two weeks. As you observe, I am here,
and have been for five days.
The woods are fine, and so is the camp, and so is the weather,
and so are the McBrides, and so is the whole world. I'm very happy!
There's Jimmie calling for me to come canoeing. Goodbye--sorry to
have disobeyed, but why are you so persistent about not wanting
