Mr. DaddyLongLegs Smith
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UNIT 9 Mr. Daddy-Long-Legs Smith, SIR: Having completed the study of argumentation and the science of dividing a thesis into heads, I have decided to adopt the following form for letter-writing. It contains all necessary facts, but no unnecessary verbiage. I. We had written examinations this week in: A. Chemistry. B. History. II. A new dormitory is being built. A. Its material is: (a) red brick. (b) grey stone. B. Its capacity will be: (a) one dean, five instructors. (b) two hundred girls. (c) one housekeeper, three cooks, twenty waitresses, twenty chambermaids. III. We had junket for dessert tonight. IV. I am writing a special topic upon the Sources of Shakespeare's Plays. V. Lou McMahon slipped and fell this afternoon at basket ball, and she: A. Dislocated her shoulder. B. Bruised her knee. VI. I have a new hat trimmed with: A. Blue velvet ribbon. B. Two blue quills. C. Three red pompoms. VII. It is half past nine. VIII. Good night. Judy 2nd June Dear Daddy-Long-Legs, You will never guess the nice thing that has happened. The McBrides have asked me to spend the summer at their camp in the Adirondacks! They belong to a sort of club on a lovely little lake in the middle of the woods. The different members have houses made of logs dotted about among the trees, and they go canoeing on the lake, and take long walks through trails to other camps, and have dances once a week in the club house – Jimmie McBride is going to have a college friend visiting him part of the summer, so you see we shall have plenty of men to dance with. Wasn't it sweet of Mrs. McBride to ask me? It appears that she liked me when I was there for Christmas. Please excuse this being short. It isn't a real letter; it's just to let you know that I'm disposed of for the summer. Yours, In a VERY contented frame of mind, Judy 5th June Dear Daddy-Long-Legs, Your secretary man has just written to me saying that Mr. Smith prefers that I should not accept Mrs. McBride's invitation, but should return to Lock Willow the same as last summer. Why, why, WHY, Daddy? You don't understand about it. Mrs. McBride does want me, really and truly. I'm not the least bit of trouble in the house. I'm a help. They don't take up many servants, and Sallie and I can do lots of useful things. It's a fine chance for me to learn housekeeping. Every woman ought to understand it, and I only know asylum-keeping. There aren't any girls our age at the camp, and Mrs. McBride wants me for a companion for Sallie. We are planning to do a lot of reading together. We are going to read all of the books for next year's English and sociology. The Professor said it would be a great help if we would get our reading finished in the summer; and it's so much easier to remember it if we read together and talk it over. Ваш секретарь только что прислал мне письмо, в котором пишет, что мистер Смит предпочитает, чтобы я отвергла приглашение миссис Мак-Брайд и поехала в «Кудрявую Иву», как прошлым летом. Почему, почему, ПОЧЕМУ, Дядюшка? Вы ничего не понимаете. Миссис Мак-Брайд действительно желает, чтобы я приехала, искренне и от всего сердца. Я не доставлю ни малейших хлопот этой семье. Я буду в помощь. Они не берут с собой много слуг, а мы с Салли можем делать массу полезных вещей. Для меня это прекрасная возможность освоить домоводство. Каждая женщина должна это понимать, а я знаю только приютоводство. В лагере нет девушек нашего возраста, и миссис Мак-Брайд хочет, чтобы я составила компанию Салли. Мы собираемся много читать вместе. Мы хотим прочесть все книги по английскому и социологии за будущий год. Профессор сказал, что, если мы осилим весь список за лето, то это нам очень сильно поможет; а запоминать прочитанное намного легче, если читать вместе и после обсуждать. Just to live in the same house with Sallie's mother is an education. She's the most interesting, entertaining, companionable, charming woman in the world; she knows everything. Think how many summers I've spent with Mrs. Lippett and how I'll appreciate the contrast. You needn't be afraid that I'll be crowding them, for their house is made of rubber. When they have a lot of company, they just sprinkle tents about in the woods and turn the boys outside. It's going to be such a nice, healthy summer exercising out of doors every minute. Jimmie McBride is going to teach me how to ride horseback and paddle a canoe, and how to shoot and – oh, lots of things I ought to know. It's the kind of nice, jolly, care-free time that I've never had; and I think every girl deserves it once in her life. Of course I'll do exactly as you say, but please, PLEASE let me go, Daddy. I've never wanted anything so much. This isn't Jerusha Abbott, the future great author, writing to you. It's just Judy – a girl. 9th June Mr. John Smith, SIR: Yours of the 7th inst. at hand. In compliance with the instructions received through your secretary, I leave on Friday next to spend the summer at Lock Willow Farm. I hope always to remain, (Miss) Jerusha Abbott LOCK WILLOW FARM, 3rd August Dear Daddy-Long-Legs, It has been nearly two months since I wrote, which wasn't nice of me, I know, but I haven't loved you much this summer – you see I'm being frank! You can't imagine how disappointed I was at having to give up the McBrides' camp. Of course I know that you're my guardian, and that I have to regard your wishes in all matters, but I couldn't see any REASON. It was so distinctly the best thing that could have happened to me. If I had been Daddy, and you had been Judy, I should have said, 'Bless yo my child, run along and have a good time; see lots of new people and learn lots of new things; live out of doors, and get strong and well and rested for a year of hard work.' But not at all! Just a curt line from your secretary ordering me to Lock Willow. It's the impersonality of your commands that hurts my feelings. It seems as though, if you felt the tiniest little bit for me the way I feel for you, you'd sometimes send me a message that you'd written with your own hand, instead of those beastly typewritten secretary's notes. If there were the slightest hint that you cared, I'd do anything on earth to please you. I know that I was to write nice, long, detailed letters without ever expecting any answer. You're living up to your side of the bargain – I'm being educated – and I suppose you're thinking I'm not living up to mine! Дорогой Длинноногий Дядюшка, Почти два месяца прошло с тех пор, как я написала Вам в последний раз, что с моей стороны некрасиво, я знаю, но я не слишком любила Вас этим летом – видите, я с Вами откровенна! Вы не представляете себе, как я была разочарована тем, что мне пришлось отказаться от лагеря Мак-Брайдов. Ну, конечно, зная о том, что Вы мой попечитель, я должна учитывать Ваши пожелания во всех вопросах, однако мне не ясна ПРИЧИНА. Это, очевидно, было самым лучшим, что могло со мной приключиться. Будь я Дядюшкой, а Вы – Джуди, я бы сказала: «Да благословит тебя бог, дитя, беги и развлекайся; знакомься со множеством новых людей и узнавай множество новых вещей; живи на природе, набирайся сил, здоровья и отдыхай для года упорной работы». Но ничего подобного! Только лаконичная строчка от Вашего секретаря с приказом отправляться в «Кудрявую Иву». Именно безликость Ваших приказаний оскорбляет мои чувства. Похоже, что если бы Вы испытывали по отношению ко мне хоть малейшую долю того, что я чувствую к Вам, то Вы бы иногда присылали мне письмо, написанное Вашей собственной рукой, а не эти мерзкие напечатанные послания секретаря. Если бы существовал хоть малейший намек, что Вам не все равно, я сделала бы все, что угодно, чтобы доставить Вам удовольствие. Я знаю, что должна составлять хорошие, длинные, подробные письма без всякой надежды, что мне когда-нибудь ответят. Вы выполняете свою часть сделки – даете мне образование – и полагаю, думаете, что я не выполняю свою! But, Daddy, it is a hard bargain. It is, really. I'm so awfully lonely. You are the only person I have to care for, and you are so shadowy. You're just an imaginary man that I've made up – and probably the real YOU isn't a bit like my imaginary YOU. But you did once, when I was ill in the infirmary, send me a message, and now, when I am feeling awfully forgotten, I get out your card and read it over. I don't think I am telling you at all what I started to say, which was this: Although my feelings are still hurt, for it is very humiliating to be picked up and moved about by an arbitrary, peremptory, unreasonable, omnipotent, invisible Providence, still, when a man has been as kind and generous and thoughtful as you have heretofore been towards me, I suppose he has a right to be an arbitrary, peremptory, unreasonable, invisible Providence if he chooses, and so – I'll forgive you and be cheerful again. But I still don't enjoy getting Sallie's letters about the good times they are having in camp! However – we will draw a veil over that and begin again. Несмотря на то, что чувства мои по-прежнему задеты, поскольку очень унизительно, когда тебя хватает за шкирку и вертит тобой капризное, категоричное, безрассудное, всемогущее, невидимое Провидение, все же, когда мужчина проявляет такую доброту, щедрость и заботу, какую Вы до сих пор проявляли ко мне, я полагаю, у него есть право быть капризным, категоричным, безрассудным, всемогущим, невидимым Провидением, если он того пожелает, поэтому я прощаю Вас и буду вновь веселиться. Но мне все еще не по душе получать письма от Салли о том, как они чудесно проводят время в лагере! Как бы то ни было, умолчим об этом и начнем сначала. I've been writing and writing this summer; four short stories finished and sent to four different magazines. So you see I'm trying to be an author. I have a workroom fixed in a corner of the attic where Master Jervie used to have his rainy-day playroom. It's in a cool, breezy corner with two dormer windows, and shaded by a maple tree with a family of red squirrels living in a hole. I'll write a nicer letter in a few days and tell you all the farm news. We need rain. Yours as ever, Judy 10th August Mr. Daddy-Long-Legs, SIR: I address you from the second crotch in the willow tree by the pool in the pasture. There's a frog croaking underneath, a locust singing overhead and two little 'devil downheads' darting up and down the trunk. I've been here for an hour; it's a very comfortable crotch, especially after being upholstered with two sofa cushions. I came up with a pen and tablet hoping to write an immortal short story, but I've been having a dreadful time with my heroine – I CAN'T make her behave as I want her to behave; so I've abandoned her for the moment, and am writing to you. (Not much relief though, for I can't make you behave as I want you to, either.) If you are in that dreadful New York, I wish I could send you some of this lovely, breezy, sunshiny outlook. The country is Heaven after a week of rain. Speaking of Heaven – do you remember Mr. Kellogg that I told you about last summer? – the minister of the little white church at the Corners. Well, the poor old soul is dead – last winter of pneumonia. I went half a dozen times to hear him preach and got very well acquainted with his theology. He believed to the end exactly the same things he started with. It seems to me that a man who can think straight along for forty-seven years without changing a single idea ought to be kept in a cabinet as a curiosity. I hope he is enjoying his harp and golden crown; he was so perfectly sure of finding them! There's a new young man, very consequential, in his place. The congregation is pretty dubious, especially the faction led by Deacon Cummings. It looks as though there was going to be an awful split in the church. We don't care for innovations in religion in this neighbourhood. During our week of rain I sat up in the attic and had an orgy of reading – Stevenson, mostly. He himself is more entertaining than any of the characters in his books; I dare say he made himself into the kind of hero that would look well in print. Don't you think it was perfect of him to spend all the ten thousand dollars his father left, for a yacht, and go sailing off to the South Seas? He lived up to his adventurous creed. If my father had left me ten thousand dollars, I'd do it, too. The thought of Vailima makes me wild. I want to see the tropics. I want to see the whole world. I am going to be a great author, or artist, or actress, or playwright – or whatever sort of a great person I turn out to be. I have a terrible wander thirst; the very sight of a map makes me want to put on my hat and take an umbrella and start. 'I shall see before I die the palms and temples of the South.' Thursday evening at twilight, sitting on the doorstep. Very hard to get any news into this letter! Judy is becoming so philosophical of late, that she wishes to discourse largely of the world in general, instead of descending to the trivial details of daily life. But if you MUST have news, here it is: Our nine young pigs waded across the brook and ran away last Tuesday, and only eight came back. We don't want to accuse anyone unjustly, but we suspect that Widow Dowd has one more than she ought to have. Mr. Weaver has painted his barn and his two silos a bright pumpkin yellow – a very ugly colour, but he says it will wear. The Brewers have company this week; Mrs. Brewer's sister and two nieces from Ohio. One of our Rhode Island Reds only brought off three chicks out of fifteen eggs. We can't imagine what was the trouble. Rhode island Reds, in my opinion, are a very inferior breed. I prefer Buff Orpingtons. The new clerk in the post office at Bonnyrigg Four Corners drank every drop of Jamaica ginger they had in stock – seven dollars' worth – before he was discovered. Old Ira Hatch has rheumatism and can't work any more; he never saved his money when he was earning good wages, so now he has to live on the town. There's to be an ice-cream social at the schoolhouse next Saturday evening. Come and bring your families. I have a new hat that I bought for twenty-five cents at the post office. This is my latest portrait, on my way to rake the hay. It's getting too dark to see; anyway, the news is all used up. Good night, Judy Friday Good morning! Here is some news! What do you think? You'd never, never, never guess who's coming to Lock Willow. A letter to Mrs. Semple from Mr. Pendleton. He's motoring through the Berkshires, and is tired and wants to rest on a nice quiet farm – if he climbs out at her doorstep some night will she have a room ready for him? Maybe he'll stay one week, or maybe two, or maybe three; he'll see how restful it is when he gets here. Such a flutter as we are in! The whole house is being cleaned and all the curtains washed. I am driving to the Corners this morning to get some new oilcloth for the entry, and two cans of brown floor paint for the hall and back stairs. Mrs. Dowd is engaged to come tomorrow to wash the windows (in the exigency of the moment, we waive our suspicions in regard to the piglet). You might think, from this account of our activities, that the house was not already immaculate; but I assure you it was! Whatever Mrs. Semple's limitations, she is a HOUSEKEEPER. But isn't it just like a man, Daddy? He doesn't give the remotest hint as to whether he will land on the doorstep today, or two weeks from today. We shall live in a perpetual breathlessness until he comes – and if he doesn't hurry, the cleaning may all have to be done over again. There's Amasai waiting below with the buckboard and Grover. I drive alone – but if you could see old Grove, you wouldn't be worried as to my safety. With my hand on my heart – farewell. Judy PS. Isn't that a nice ending? I got it out of Stevenson's letters. Saturday Good morning again! I didn't get this ENVELOPED yesterday before the postman came, so I'll add some more. We have one mail a day at twelve o'clock. Rural delivery is a blessing to the farmers! Our postman not only delivers letters, but he runs errands for us in town, at five cents an errand. Yesterday he brought me some shoe-strings and a jar of cold cream (I sunburned all the skin off my nose before I got my new hat) and a blue Windsor tie and a bottle of blacking all for ten cents. That was an unusual bargain, owing to the largeness of my order. Also he tells us what is happening in the Great World. Several people on the route take daily papers, and he reads them as he jogs along, and repeats the news to the ones who don't subscribe. So in case a war breaks out between the United States and Japan, or the president is assassinated, or Mr. Rockefeller leaves a million dollars to the John Grier Home, you needn't bother to write; I'll hear it anyway. И снова доброе утро! Я не ЗАПЕЧАТАЛА это письмо вчера до прихода почтальона, поэтому припишу еще что-нибудь. Почту у нас разносят раз в день, в двенадцать часов. Деревенская доставка почты – благословение для фермеров! Наш почтальон не только разносит письма, но и ездит по нашим поручениям в город, зарабатывая по пять центов с каждого поручения. Вчера он купил мне шнурки, баночку кольдкрема (у меня на носу сгорела вся кожа, пока я не купила новую шляпку), голубой виндзорский галстук и бутылочку с ваксой, – все за десять центов. Эта необычная сделка состоялась ввиду объемности моего заказа. Помимо прочего, он рассказывает нам о том, что творится в Большом Мире. Несколько человек на его маршруте выписывают ежедневную прессу, он читает ее, пока идет неспешной трусцой, и повторяет новости тем, кто газет не выписывает. Так что в случае, если между Соединенными Штатами и Японией разразится война, или будет убит президент, или мистер Рокфеллер завещает миллион долларов приюту Джона Грайера, Вам не нужно беспокоиться о том, чтобы написать мне; я все равно об этом узнаю. No sign yet of Master Jervie. But you should see how clean our house is – and with what anxiety we wipe our feet before we step in! I hope he'll come soon; I am longing for someone to talk to. Mrs. Semple, to tell you the truth, gets rather monotonous. She never lets ideas interrupt the easy flow of her conversation. It's a funny thing about the people here. Their world is just this single hilltop. They are not a bit universal, if you know what I mean. It's exactly the same as at the John Grier Home. Our ideas there were bounded by the four sides of the iron fence, only I didn't mind it so much because I was younger, and was so awfully busy. By the time I'd got all my beds made and my babies' faces washed and had gone to school and come home and had washed their faces again and darned their stockings and mended Freddie Perkins's trousers (he tore them every day of his life) and learned my lessons in between – I was ready to go to bed, and I didn't notice any lack of social intercourse. But after two years in a conversational college, I do miss it; and I shall be glad to see somebody who speaks my language. I really believe I've finished, Daddy. Nothing else occurs to me at the moment – I'll try to write a longer letter next time. Yours always, Judy PS. The lettuce hasn't done at all well this year. It was so dry early in the season. Verbiage – пустословие to learn housekeeping - освоить домохозяйство to paddle a canoe - грести на каноэ to deserve smth – заслуживать что-то to be disappointed – быть разочарованным a guardian - попечитель to hurt sb’s feelings – задеть чьи-то чувства frank - откровенный a hint - намек to live up to sth – жить согласно чему-то humiliating - унизительно on the doorstep – у порога, на крыльце to accuse sb unjustly – обвинять кого-то несправедливо to be abandoned – быть брошеным to earn good wages – получать хорошую зарплату immaculate - безупречно to give the remotest hint – давать отдаленные намеки to deliver, delivery – доставлять, доставка to run errands for sb – выполнять поручения для кого-то to be assassinated – быть убитым to wipe one’s feet – вытирать ноги to darn stockings and mend trousers – штопать чулки и чинить штаны |