소설 키다리 아저씨 영어 오디오북 ( 15 )
You know, Daddy, it isn’t the work that is going to be hard in college. It’s the play.
Half the time I don’t know what the girls are talking about.
Their jokes seem to relate to a past that every one but me has shared.
I’m a foreigner in the world and I don’t understand the language. It’s a miserable feeling.
I’ve had it all my life. At the high school the girls would stand in groups and just look at me. I was queer and different and everybody knew it. I could feel “John Grier Home” written on my face. And then a few charitable ones would make a point of coming up and saying something polite.
I hated every one of them—the charitable ones most of all.
Nobody here knows that I was brought up in an asylum. I told Sallie McBride that my mother and father were dead, and that a kind old gentleman was sending me to college—which is entirely true so far as it goes. I don’t want you to think I am a coward, but I do want to be like the other girls, and that Dreadful Home looming over my childhood is the one great big difference. If I can turn my back on that and shut out the remembrance, I think I might be just as desirable as any other girl. I don’t believe there’s any real, underneath difference, do you?
Anyway, Sallie McBride likes me!
Yours ever,
Judy Abbott.
(Née Jerusha.)
Saturday morning.
I’ve just been reading this letter over and it sounds pretty un-cheerful. But can’t you guess that I have a special topic due Monday morning and a review in geometry and a very sneezy cold?
Sunday.
I forgot to mail this yesterday so I will add an indignant postscript. We had a bishop this morning, and what do you think he said?
“The most beneficent promise made us in the Bible is this, ‘The poor ye have always with you.’ They were put here in order to keep us charitable.”
The poor, please observe, being a sort of useful domestic animal. If I hadn’t grown into such a perfect lady, I should have gone up after service and told him what I thought.
October 25th.
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I’ve made the basket-ball team and you ought to see the bruise on my left shoulder. It ’s blue and mahogany with little streaks of orange. Julia Pendleton tried for the team, but she did n’t make it. Hooray!
You see what a mean disposition I have.
College gets nicer and nicer. I like the girls and the teachers and the classes and the campus and the things to eat. We have ice-cream twice a week and we never have corn-meal mush.
You only wanted to hear from me once a month, didn’t you? And I ’ve been peppering you with letters every few days! But I ’ve been so excited about all these new adventures that I must talk to somebody. And you ’re the only one I know. Please excuse my exuberance. I ’ll settle pretty soon. If my letters bore you, you can always toss them into the waste-basket.
I promise not to write another till the middle of November.
Yours most loquaciously,
Judy Abbott.
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