Daddy Long Legs - Page 5/76

Jerusha's eyes longingly sought the door. Her head was in a whirl of

excitement, and she wished only to escape from Mrs. Lippett's

platitudes and think. She rose and took a tentative step backwards.

Mrs. Lippett detained her with a gesture; it was an oratorical

opportunity not to be slighted.

'I trust that you are properly grateful for this very rare good fortune

that has befallen you? Not many girls in your position ever have such

an opportunity to rise in the world. You must always remember--'

'I--yes, ma'am, thank you. I think, if that's all, I must go and sew a

patch on Freddie Perkins's trousers.'

The door closed behind her, and Mrs. Lippett watched it with dropped

jaw, her peroration in mid-air.

The Letters of Miss Jerusha Abbot to Mr. Daddy-Long-Legs Smith

215 FERGUSSEN HALL

24th September

Dear Kind-Trustee-Who-Sends-Orphans-to-College,

Here I am! I travelled yesterday for four hours in a train. It's a

funny sensation, isn't it? I never rode in one before.

College is the biggest, most bewildering place--I get lost whenever I

leave my room. I will write you a description later when I'm feeling

less muddled; also I will tell you about my lessons. Classes don't

begin until Monday morning, and this is Saturday night. But I wanted

to write a letter first just to get acquainted.

It seems queer to be writing letters to somebody you don't know. It

seems queer for me to be writing letters at all--I've never written

more than three or four in my life, so please overlook it if these are

not a model kind.

Before leaving yesterday morning, Mrs. Lippett and I had a very serious

talk. She told me how to behave all the rest of my life, and

especially how to behave towards the kind gentleman who is doing so

much for me. I must take care to be Very Respectful.

But how can one be very respectful to a person who wishes to be called

John Smith? Why couldn't you have picked out a name with a little

personality? I might as well write letters to Dear Hitching-Post or

Dear Clothes-Prop.

I have been thinking about you a great deal this summer; having

somebody take an interest in me after all these years makes me feel as

though I had found a sort of family. It seems as though I belonged to

somebody now, and it's a very comfortable sensation. I must say,

however, that when I think about you, my imagination has very little to

work upon. There are just three things that I know: I. You are tall.

II. You are rich.