6th October
Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs,
Yes, certainly I'll come--at half-past four next Wednesday afternoon.Of COURSE I can find the way. I've been in New York three times and amnot quite a baby. I can't believe that I am really going to seeyou--I've been just THINKING you so long that it hardly seems as thoughyou are a tangible flesh-and-blood person.
You are awfully good, Daddy, to bother yourself with me, when you'renot strong. Take care and don't catch cold. These fall rains are verydamp.
Affectionately, Judy
PS. I've just had an awful thought. Have you a butler? I'm afraid ofbutlers, and if one opens the door I shall faint upon the step. Whatcan I say to him? You didn't tell me your name. Shall I ask for Mr.Smith?
Thursday Morning
My Very Dearest Master-Jervie-Daddy-Long-Legs Pendleton-Smith,
Did you sleep last night? I didn't. Not a single wink. I was tooamazed and excited and bewildered and happy. I don't believe I evershall sleep again--or eat either. But I hope you slept; you must, youknow, because then you will get well faster and can come to me.
Dear Man, I can't bear to think how ill you've been--and all the time Inever knew it. When the doctor came down yesterday to put me in thecab, he told me that for three days they gave you up. Oh, dearest, ifthat had happened, the light would have gone out of the world for me.I suppose that some day in the far future--one of us must leave theother; but at least we shall have had our happiness and there will bememories to live with.
I meant to cheer you up--and instead I have to cheer myself. For inspite of being happier than I ever dreamed I could be, I'm alsosoberer. The fear that something may happen rests like a shadow on myheart. Always before I could be frivolous and care-free andunconcerned, because I had nothing precious to lose. But now--I shallhave a Great Big Worry all the rest of my life. Whenever you are awayfrom me I shall be thinking of all the automobiles that can run overyou, or the sign-boards that can fall on your head, or the dreadful,squirmy germs that you may be swallowing. My peace of mind is gone forever--but anyway, I never cared much for just plain peace.
Please get well--fast--fast--fast. I want to have you close by where Ican touch you and make sure you are tangible. Such a little half hourwe had together! I'm afraid maybe I dreamed it. If I were only amember of your family (a very distant fourth cousin) then I could comeand visit you every day, and read aloud and plump up your pillow andsmooth out those two little wrinkles in your forehead and make thecorners of your mouth turn up in a nice cheerful smile. But you arecheerful again, aren't you? You were yesterday before I left. Thedoctor said I must be a good nurse, that you looked ten years younger.I hope that being in love doesn't make every one ten years younger.Will you still care for me, darling, if I turn out to be only eleven?
Yesterday was the most wonderful day that could ever happen. If I liveto be ninety-nine I shall never forget the tiniest detail. The girlthat left Lock Willow at dawn was a very different person from the onewho came back at night. Mrs. Semple called me at half-past four. Istarted wide awake in the darkness and the first thought that poppedinto my head was, 'I am going to see Daddy-Long-Legs!' I ate breakfastin the kitchen by candle-light, and then drove the five miles to thestation through the most glorious October colouring. The sun came upon the way, and the swamp maples and dogwood glowed crimson and orangeand the stone walls and cornfields sparkled with hoar frost; the airwas keen and clear and full of promise. I knew something was going tohappen. All the way in the train the rails kept singing, 'You're goingto see Daddy-Long-Legs.' It made me feel secure. I had such faith inDaddy's ability to set things right. And I knew that somewhere anotherman--dearer than Daddy--was wanting to see me, and somehow I had afeeling that before the journey ended I should meet him, too. And yousee!
When I came to the house on Madison Avenue it looked so big and brownand forbidding that I didn't dare go in, so I walked around the blockto get up my courage. But I needn't have been a bit afraid; yourbutler is such a nice, fatherly old man that he made me feel at home atonce. 'Is this Miss Abbott?' he said to me, and I said, 'Yes,' so Ididn't have to ask for Mr. Smith after all. He told me to wait in thedrawing-room. It was a very sombre, magnificent, man's sort of room. Isat down on the edge of a big upholstered chair and kept saying tomyself:
'I'm going to see Daddy-Long-Legs! I'm going to see Daddy-Long-Legs!'
Then presently the man came back and asked me please to step up to thelibrary. I was so excited that really and truly my feet would hardlytake me up. Outside the door he turned and whispered, 'He's been veryill, Miss. This is the first day he's been allowed to sit up. You'llnot stay long enough to excite him?' I knew from the way he said itthat he loved you--and I think he's an old dear!
Then he knocked and said, 'Miss Abbott,' and I went in and the doorclosed behind me.
It was so dim coming in from the brightly lighted hall that for amoment I could scarcely make out anything; then I saw a big easy chairbefore the fire and a shining tea table with a smaller chair beside it.And I realized that a man was sitting in the big chair propped up bypillows with a rug over his knees. Before I could stop him herose--rather shakily--and steadied himself by the back of the chair andjust looked at me without a word. And then--and then--I saw it wasyou! But even with that I didn't understand. I thought Daddy had hadyou come there to meet me or a surprise.
Then you laughed and held out your hand and said, 'Dear little Judy,couldn't you guess that I was Daddy-Long-Legs?'
In an instant it flashed over me. Oh, but I have been stupid! Ahundred little things might have told me, if I had had any wits. Iwouldn't make a very good detective, would I, Daddy? Jervie? Whatmust I call you? Just plain Jervie sounds disrespectful, and I can'tbe disrespectful to you!
It was a very sweet half hour before your doctor came and sent me away.I was so dazed when I got to the station that I almost took a train forSt Louis. And you were pretty dazed, too. You forgot to give me anytea. But we're both very, very happy, aren't we? I drove back to LockWillow in the dark but oh, how the stars were shining! And thismorning I've been out with Colin visiting all the places that you and Iwent to together, and remembering what you said and how you looked.The woods today are burnished bronze and the air is full of frost.It's CLIMBING weather. I wish you were here to climb the hills withme. I am missing you dreadfully, Jervie dear, but it's a happy kind ofmissing; we'll be together soon. We belong to each other now reallyand truly, no make-believe. Doesn't it seem queer for me to belong tosomeone at last? It seems very, very sweet.
And I shall never let you be sorry for a single instant.
Yours, for ever and ever, Judy
PS. This is the first love-letter I ever wrote. Isn't it funny that Iknow how?