Daddy Long Legs

I called him 'Master Jervie' to his face, but he didn't appear to be

insulted. Julia says she has never seen him so amiable; he's usually

pretty unapproachable. But Julia hasn't a bit of tact; and men, I

find, require a great deal. They purr if you rub them the right way

and spit if you don't. (That isn't a very elegant metaphor. I mean it

figuratively.) We're reading Marie Bashkirtseff's journal. Isn't it amazing? Listen

to this: 'Last night I was seized by a fit of despair that found

utterance in moans, and that finally drove me to throw the dining-room

clock into the sea.' It makes me almost hope I'm not a genius; they must be very wearing to

have about--and awfully destructive to the furniture.

Mercy! how it keeps Pouring. We shall have to swim to chapel tonight.

Yours ever,

Judy

20th Jan.

Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

Did you ever have a sweet baby girl who was stolen from the cradle in

infancy?

Maybe I am she! If we were in a novel, that would be the denouement,

wouldn't it?

It's really awfully queer not to know what one is--sort of exciting and

romantic. There are such a lot of possibilities. Maybe I'm not

American; lots of people aren't. I may be straight descended from the

ancient Romans, or I may be a Viking's daughter, or I may be the child

of a Russian exile and belong by rights in a Siberian prison, or maybe

I'm a Gipsy--I think perhaps I am. I have a very WANDERING spirit,

though I haven't as yet had much chance to develop it.

Do you know about that one scandalous blot in my career the time I ran

away from the asylum because they punished me for stealing cookies?

It's down in the books free for any Trustee to read. But really,

Daddy, what could you expect? When you put a hungry little nine-year

girl in the pantry scouring knives, with the cookie jar at her elbow,

and go off and leave her alone; and then suddenly pop in again,

wouldn't you expect to find her a bit crumby? And then when you jerk

her by the elbow and box her ears, and make her leave the table when

the pudding comes, and tell all the other children that it's because

she's a thief, wouldn't you expect her to run away?

I only ran four miles. They caught me and brought me back; and every

day for a week I was tied, like a naughty puppy, to a stake in the back

yard while the other children were out at recess.