Daddy Long Legs - Page 49/76

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 than

ever this year--faces the South with two huge windows and oh! so

furnished. Julia, with an unlimited allowance, arrived two days early

and was attacked with a fever for settling.

We have new wall paper and oriental rugs and mahogany chairs--not

painted 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'm

nervous 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 your

secretary's.

Will you kindly convey to me a comprehensible reason why I should not

accept that scholarship? I don't understand your objection in the

least. 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 sounds

a little impertinent, but I don't mean it so.

I suppose you feel that when you set out to educate me, you'd like to

finish the work, and put a neat period, in the shape of a diploma, at

the end.

But look at it just a second from my point of view. I shall owe my

education to you just as much as though I let you pay for the whole of

it, but I won't be quite so much indebted. I know that you don't want

me 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 much

easier. I was expecting to spend the rest of my life in paying my

debts, 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 I

shall still most gratefully accept. It requires an allowance to live

up to Julia and her furniture! I wish that she had been reared to

simpler 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've

been hemming four window curtains and three portieres (I'm glad you

can't see the length of the stitches), and polishing a brass desk set

with tooth powder (very uphill work), and sawing off picture wire with

manicure scissors, and unpacking four boxes of books, and putting away

two trunkfuls of clothes (it doesn't seem believable that Jerusha

Abbott owns two trunks full of clothes, but she does!) and welcoming

back fifty dear friends in between.