daddy-long-legs-第1部分

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Daddy…Long…Legs　

by　Jean　Webster







TO　YOU





Blue　Wednesday



The　first　Wednesday　in　every　month　was　a　Perfectly　Awful　Daya　day

to　be　awaited　with　dread；　endured　with　courage　and　forgotten　with　haste。　

Every　floor　must　be　spotless；　every　chair　dustless；　and　every　bed

without　a　wrinkle。　　Ninety…seven　squirming　little　orphans　must　be

scrubbed　and　combed　and　buttoned　into　freshly　starched　ginghams；

and　all　ninety…seven　reminded　of　their　manners；　and　told　to　say；

‘Yes；　sir；'　‘No；　sir；'　whenever　a　Trustee　spoke。



It　was　a　distressing　time；　and　poor　Jerusha　Abbott；　being　the

oldest　orphan；　had　to　bear　the　brunt　of　it。　　But　this　particular

first　Wednesday；　like　its　predecessors；　finally　dragged　itself

to　a　close。　　Jerusha　escaped　from　the　pantry　where　she　had　been

making　sandwiches　for　the　asylum's　guests；　and　turned　upstairs

to　accomplish　her　regular　work。　　Her　special　care　was　room　F；

where　eleven　little　tots；　from　four　to　seven；　occupied　eleven　little

cots　set　in　a　row。　　Jerusha　assembled　her　charges；　straightened　their

rumpled　frocks；　wiped　their　noses；　and　started　them　in　an　orderly

and　willing　line　towards　the　dining…room　to　engage　themselves

for　a　blessed　half　hour　with　bread　and　milk　and　prune　pudding。



Then　she　dropped　down　on　the　window　seat　and　leaned　throbbing　temples

against　the　cool　glass。　　She　had　been　on　her　feet　since　five　that　morning；

doing　everybody's　bidding；　scolded　and　hurried　by　a　nervous　matron。　

Mrs。　Lippett；　behind　the　scenes；　did　not　always　maintain　that　calm

and　pompous　dignity　with　which　she　faced　an　audience　of　Trustees

and　lady　visitors。　　Jerusha　gazed　out　across　a　broad　stretch　of

frozen　lawn；　beyond　the　tall　iron　paling　that　marked　the　confines

of　the　asylum；　down　undulating　ridges　sprinkled　with　country　estates；

to　the　spires　of　the　village　rising　from　the　midst　of　bare　trees。



The　day　was　endedquite　successfully；　so　far　as　she　knew。　

The　Trustees　and　the　visiting　committee　had　made　their　rounds；

and　read　their　reports；　and　drunk　their　tea；　and　now　were　hurrying

home　to　their　own　cheerful　firesides；　to　forget　their　bothersome

little　charges　for　another　month。　　Jerusha　leaned　forward

watching　with　curiosityand　a　touch　of　wistfulnessthe　stream

of　carriages　and　automobiles　that　rolled　out　of　the　asylum　gates。　

In　imagination　she　followed　first　one　equipage；　then　another；

to　the　big　houses　dotted　along　the　hillside。　　She　pictured　herself

in　a　fur　coat　and　a　velvet　hat　trimmed　with　feathers　leaning　back

in　the　seat　and　nonchalantly　murmuring　‘Home'　to　the　driver。　

But　on　the　door…sill　of　her　home　the　picture　grew　blurred。



Jerusha　had　an　imaginationan　imagination；　Mrs。　Lippett　told　her；

that　would　get　her　into　trouble　if　she　didn't　take　carebut　keen

as　it　was；　it　could　not　carry　her　beyond　the　front　porch　of　the

houses　she　would　enter。　　Poor；　eager；　adventurous　little　Jerusha；

in　all　her　seventeen　years；　had　never　stepped　inside　an　ordinary　house；

she　could　not　picture　the　daily　routine　of　those　other　human　beings

who　carried　on　their　lives　undiscommoded　by　orphans。



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Je…ru…sha　Ab…bott

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　You　are　wan…ted

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　In　the　of…fice；

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　And　I　think　you'd

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Better　hurry　up！





Tommy　Dillon；　who　had　joined　the　choir；　came　singing　up　the　stairs

and　down　the　corridor；　his　chant　growing　louder　as　he　approached

room　F。　Jerusha　wrenched　herself　from　the　window　and　refaced

the　troubles　of　life。



‘Who　wants　me？'　she　cut　into　Tommy's　chant　with　a　note　of　sharp　anxiety。



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Mrs。　Lippett　in　the　office；

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　And　I　think　she's　mad。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Ah…a…men！





Tommy　piously　intoned；　but　his　accent　was　not　entirely　malicious。　

Even　the　most　hardened　little　orphan　felt　sympathy　for　an　erring

sister　who　was　summoned　to　the　office　to　face　an　annoyed　matron；

and　Tommy　liked　Jerusha　even　if　she　did　sometimes　jerk　him　by　the　arm

and　nearly　scrub　his　nose　off。



Jerusha　went　without　comment；　but　with　two　parallel　lines　on　her　brow。　

What　could　have　gone　wrong；　she　wondered。　　Were　the　sandwiches

not　thin　enough？　　Were　there　shells　in　the　nut　cakes？　　Had　a　lady

visitor　seen　the　hole　in　Susie　Hawthorn's　stocking？　　HadO　horrors！

one　of　the　cherubic　little　babes　in　her　own　room　F　‘sauced'　a　Trustee？



The　long　lower　hall　had　not　been　lighted；　and　as　she　came　downstairs；

a　last　Trustee　stood；　on　the　point　of　departure；　in　the　open　door　that

led　to　the　porte…cochere。　Jerusha　caught　only　a　fleeting　impression

of　the　manand　the　impression　consisted　entirely　of　tallness。　

He　was　waving　his　arm　towards　an　automobile　waiting　in　the　curved　drive。　

As　it　sprang　into　motion　and　approached；　head　on　for　an　instant；

the　glaring　headlights　threw　his　shadow　sharply　against　the　wall　inside。　

The　shadow　pictured　grotesquely　elongated　legs　and　arms　that　ran

along　the　floor　and　up　the　wall　of　the　corridor。　　It　looked；

for　all　the　world；　like　a　huge；　wavering　daddy…long…legs。



Jerusha's　anxious　frown　gave　place　to　quick　laughter。　　She　was　by　nature

a　sunny　soul；　and　had　always　snatched　the　tiniest　excuse　to　be　amused。　

If　one　could　derive　any　sort　of　entertainment　out　of　the　oppressive

fact　of　a　Trustee；　it　was　something　unexpected　to　the　good。　

She　advanced　to　the　office　quite　cheered　by　the　tiny　episode；

and　presented　a　smiling　face　to　Mrs。　Lippett。　　To　her　surprise　the

matron　was　also；　if　not　exactly　smiling；　at　least　appreciably　affable；

she　wore　an　expression　almost　as　pleasant　as　the　one　she　donned

for　visitors。



‘Sit　down；　Jerusha；　I　have　something　to　say　to　you。'　　Jerusha　dropped

into　the　nearest　chair　and　waited　with　a　touch　of　breathlessness。　

An　automobile　flashed　past　the　window；　Mrs。　Lippett　glanced　after　it。



‘Did　you　notice　the　gentleman　who　has　just　gone？'



‘I　saw　his　back。'



‘He　is　one　of　our　most　affluential　Trustees；　and　has　given　large　sums

of　money　towards　the　asylum's　support。　　I　am　not　at　liberty　to　mention

his　name；　he　expressly　stipulated　that　he　was　to　remain　unknown。'



Jerusha's　eyes　widened　slightly；　she　was　not　accustomed　to　being

summoned　to　the　office　to　discuss　the　eccentricities　of　Trustees

with　the　matron。



‘This　gentleman　has　taken　an　interest　in　several　of　our　boys。　

You　remember　Charles　Benton　and　Henry　Freize？　　They　were　both　sent

through　college　by　Mr。erthis　Trustee；　and　both　have　repaid　with

hard　work　and　success　the　money　that　was　so　generously　expended。　

Other　payment　the　gentleman　does　not　wish。　　Heretofore　his

philanthropies　have　been　directed　solely　towards　the　boys；

I　have　never　been　able　to　interest　him　in　the　slightest　degree

in　any　of　the　girls　in　the　institution；　no　matter　how　deserving。　

He　does　not；　I　may　tell　you；　care　for　girls。'



‘No；　ma'am；'　Jerusha　murmured；　since　some　reply　seemed　to　be　expected

at　this　point。



‘To…day　at　the　regular　meeting；　the　question　of　your　future　was

brought　up。'



Mrs。　Lippett　allowed　a　moment　of　silence　to　fall；　then　resumed

in　a　slow；　placid　manner　extremely　trying　to　her　hearer's　suddenly

tightened　nerves。



‘Usually；　as　you　know；　the　children　are　not　kept　after　they　are　sixteen；

but　an　exception　was　made　in　your　case。　　You　had　finished　our　school

at　fourteen；　and　having　done　so　well　in　your　studiesnot　always；

I　must　say；　in　your　conductit　was　determined　to　let　you　go　on　in

the　village　high　school。　　Now　you　are　finishing　that；　and　of　course

the　asylum　cannot　be　responsible　any　longer　for　your　support。　

As　it　is；　you　have　had　two　years　more　than　most。'



Mrs。　Lippett　overlooked　the　fact　that　Jerusha　had　worked　hard

for　her　board　during　those　two　years；　that　the　convenience

of　the　asylum　had　come　first　and　her　education　second；

that　on　days　like　the　present　she　was　kept　at　home　to　scrub。



‘As　I　say；　the　question　of　your　future　was　brought　up　and　your

record　was　discussedthoroughly　discussed。'



Mrs。　Lippett　brought　accusing　eyes　to　bear　upon　the　prisoner　in　the　dock；

and　the　prisoner　looked　guilty　because　it　seemed　to　be　expected

not　because　she　could　remember　any　strikingly　black　pages　in　her　record。



‘Of　course　the　usual　disposition　of　one　in　your　place　would　be　to

put　you　in　a　position　where　you　could　begin　to　work；　but　you　have

done　well　in　school　in　certain　branches；　it　seems　that　your　work

in　English　has　even　been　brilliant。　　Miss　Pritchard；　who　is　on　our

visiting　committee；　is　also　on　the　school　board；　she　has　been　talking

with　your　rhetoric　teacher；　and　made　a　speech　in　your　favour。　

She　also　read　aloud　an　essay　that　you　had　written　entitled；

〃Blue　Wednesday〃。'



Jerusha's　guilty　expression　this　time　was　not　assumed。



‘It　seemed　to　me　that　you　showed　little　gratitude　in　holding　up

to　ridicule　the　institution　that　has　done　so　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　goneappears　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　pai