Isn"t that a happy frame of mind to be in? And oh, Daddy! I"m the happiest of all! Because I"m not in the asylum any more; and I"m not anybody"s nursemaid or typewriter or bookkeeper (I should have been, you know, except for you).
I"m sorry now for all my past badnesses.
I"m sorry I was ever impertinent to Mrs. Lippett.
I"m sorry I ever slapped Freddie Perkins.
I"m sorry I ever filled the sugar bowl with salt.
I"m sorry I ever made faces behind the Trustees" backs.
I"m going to be good and sweet and kind to everybody because I"m so happy. And this summer I"m going to write and write and write and begin to be a great author. Isn"t that an exalted stand to take? Oh, I"m developing a beautiful character! It droops a bit under cold and frost, but it does grow fast when the sun shines.
That"s the way with everybody. I don"t agree with the theory that adversity and sorrow and disappointment develop moral strength. The happy people are the ones who are bubbling over with kindliness. I have no faith in misanthropes. (Fine word! Just learned it.) You are not a misanthrope are you, Daddy?
I started to tell you about the campus. I wish you"d come for a little visit and let me walk you about and say:
"That is the library. This is the gas plant, Daddy dear. The Gothic building on your left is the gymnasium, and the Tudor Romanesque beside it is the new infirmary."
Oh, I"m fine at showing people about. I"ve done it all my life at the asylum, and I"ve been doing it all day here. I have honestly.
And a Man, too!
That"s a great experience. I never talked to a man before (except occasional Trustees, and they don"t count). Pardon, Daddy, I don"t mean to hurt your feelings when I abuse Trustees. I don"t consider that you really belong among them. You just tumbled on to the Board by chance.
The Trustee, as such, is fat and pompous and benevolent. He pats one on the head and wears a gold watch chain.
That looks like a June bug, but is meant to be a portrait of any Trustee except you.
However--to resume:
I have been walking and talking and having tea with a man. And with a very superior man--with Mr. Jervis Pendleton of the House of Julia; her uncle, in short (in long, perhaps I ought to say; he"s as tall as you.) Being in town on business, he decided to run out to the college and call on his niece. He"s her father"s youngest brother, but she doesn"t know him very intimately. It seems he glanced at her when she was a baby, decided he didn"t like her, and has never noticed her since.
Anyway, there he was, sitting in the reception room very proper with his hat and stick and gloves beside him; and Julia and Sallie with seventh-hour recitations that they couldn"t cut. So Julia dashed into my room and begged me to walk him about the campus and then deliver him to her when the seventh hour was over. I said I would, obligingly but unenthusiastically, because I don"t care much for Pendletons.
But he turned out to be a sweet lamb. He"s a real human being--not a Pendleton at all. We had a beautiful time; I"ve longed for an uncle ever since. Do you mind pretending you"re my uncle? I believe they"re superior to grandmothers.
Mr. Pendleton reminded me a little of you, Daddy, as you were twenty years ago. You see I know you intimately, even if we haven"t ever met!
He"s tall and thinnish with a dark face all over lines, and the funniest underneath smile that never quite comes through but just wrinkles up the corners of his mouth. And he has a way of making you feel right off as though you"d known him a long time. He"s very companionable.
We walked all over the campus from the quadrangle to the athletic grounds; then he said he felt weak and must have some tea. He proposed that we go to College Inn--it"s just off the campus by the pine walk.
I said we ought to go back for Julia and Sallie, but he said he didn"t like to have his nieces drink too much tea; it made them nervous. So we just ran away and had tea and m.u.f.fins and marmalade and ice-cream and cake at a nice little table out on the balcony. The inn was quite conveniently empty, this being the end of the month and allowances low.
We had the jolliest time! But he had to run for his train the minute he got back and he barely saw Julia at all. She was furious with me for taking him off; it seems he"s an unusually rich and desirable uncle. It relieved my mind to find he was rich, for the tea and things cost sixty cents apiece.
This morning (it"s Monday now) three boxes of chocolates came by express for Julia and Sallie and me. What do you think of that? To be getting candy from a man!
I begin to feel like a girl instead of a foundling.
I wish you"d come and have tea some day and let me see if I like you.
But wouldn"t it be dreadful if I didn"t? However, I know I should.
Bien! I make you my compliments.
"Jamais je ne t"oublierai."
Judy
PS. I looked in the gla.s.s this morning and found a perfectly new dimple that I"d never seen before. It"s very curious. Where do you suppose it came from?
9th June
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Happy day! I"ve just finished my last examination Physiology. And now:
Three months on a farm!
I don"t know what kind of a thing a farm is. I"ve never been on one in my life. I"ve never even looked at one (except from the car window), but I know I"m going to love it, and I"m going to love being FREE.
I am not used even yet to being outside the John Grier Home. Whenever I think of it excited little thrills chase up and down my back. I feel as though I must run faster and faster and keep looking over my shoulder to make sure that Mrs. Lippett isn"t after me with her arm stretched out to grab me back.
I don"t have to mind any one this summer, do I?
Your nominal authority doesn"t annoy me in the least; you are too far away to do any harm. Mrs. Lippett is dead for ever, so far as I am concerned, and the Semples aren"t expected to overlook my moral welfare, are they? No, I am sure not. I am entirely grown up. Hooray!
I leave you now to pack a trunk, and three boxes of teakettles and dishes and sofa cushions and books.
Yours ever, Judy
PS. Here is my physiology exam. Do you think you could have pa.s.sed?
LOCK WILLOW FARM, Sat.u.r.day night
Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs,
I"ve only just come and I"m not unpacked, but I can"t wait to tell you how much I like farms. This is a heavenly, heavenly, HEAVENLY spot!
The house is square like this: And OLD. A hundred years or so. It has a veranda on the side which I can"t draw and a sweet porch in front. The picture really doesn"t do it justice--those things that look like feather dusters are maple trees, and the p.r.i.c.kly ones that border the drive are murmuring pines and hemlocks. It stands on the top of a hill and looks way off over miles of green meadows to another line of hills.
That is the way Connecticut goes, in a series of Marcelle waves; and Lock Willow Farm is just on the crest of one wave. The barns used to be across the road where they obstructed the view, but a kind flash of lightning came from heaven and burnt them down.