Daddy-Long-Legs | Page 5

much for you. Had you not
managed to be funny I doubt if you would have been forgiven. But
fortunately for you, Mr.--, that is, the gentleman who has just
gone--appears to have an immoderate sense of humour. On the strength
of that impertinent paper, he has offered to send you to college.'
`To college?' Jerusha's eyes grew big. Mrs. Lippett nodded.
`He waited to discuss the terms with me. They are unusual. The
gentleman, I may say, is erratic. He believes that you have originality,
and he is planning to educate you to become a writer.'
`A writer?' Jerusha's mind was numbed. She could only repeat Mrs.
Lippett's words.
`That is his wish. Whether anything will come of it, the future will
show. He is giving you a very liberal allowance, almost, for a girl who
has never had any experience in taking care of money, too liberal. But
he planned the matter in detail, and I did not feel free to make any
suggestions. You are to remain here through the summer, and Miss
Pritchard has kindly offered to superintend your outfit. Your board and
tuition will be paid directly to the college, and you will receive in
addition during the four years you are there, an allowance of thirty-five
dollars a month. This will enable you to enter on the same standing as
the other students. The money will be sent to you by the gentleman's
private secretary once a month, and in return, you will write a letter of
acknowledgment once a month. That is--you are not to thank him for
the money; he doesn't care to have that mentioned, but you are to write
a letter telling of the progress in your studies and the details of your
daily life. Just such a letter as you would write to your parents if they
were living.

`These letters will be addressed to Mr. John Smith and will be sent in
care of the secretary. The gentleman's name is not John Smith, but he
prefers to remain unknown. To you he will never be anything but John
Smith. His reason in requiring the letters is that he thinks nothing so
fosters facility in literary expression as letter-writing. Since you have
no family with whom to correspond, he desires you to write in this way;
also, he wishes to keep track of your progress. He will never answer
your letters, nor in the slightest particular take any notice of them. He
detests letter-writing and does not wish you to become a burden. If any
point should ever arise where an answer would seem to be
imperative--such as in the event of your being expelled, which I trust
will not occur--you may correspond with Mr. Griggs, his secretary.
These monthly letters are absolutely obligatory on your part; they are
the only payment that Mr. Smith requires, so you must be as
punctilious in sending them as though it were a bill that you were
paying. I hope that they will always be respectful in tone and will
reflect credit on your training. You must remember that you are writing
to a Trustee of the John Grier Home.'
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 Abbott
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