A/N: One-shot fanfic of Daddy-Long-Legs by Jean Webster. Enjoy and please review!
Hopping on one foot, Judy yanked on a skirt over her long woollen underwear. As she buttoned it up to her waist, he long dark hair kept flopping in her eyes, and she impatiently tossed it back again. The ribbon around her wrist was there to tie her hair back, but one of her skirt buttons seemed to find great enjoyment in being immovably stubborn. She had finally succeeded in knotting the ribbon around the thick coils of hair and was trying to locate her left shoe when she heard the quick heavy pounding of feet on the stairs and the door slammed open.
"Judy! Judy!" Julia shouted, racing into the room. Judy gripped the desk to keep from falling over as she pulled her sock on.
"Oh, thank goodness! Judy, what are you doing?"
"Gng t bsktbll prctis," Judy said. The hairbrush clenched between her teeth prevented her from enunciating as Mrs. Lippett would have wished her asylum foundlings to do, but Julia understood her.
"Can you skip? You've been to every practise, haven't you?"
"Ersh. Wur der yer wnt me ter?"
"He's here, and I simply can't cut recitations and neither can Sallie! Can you go to him and show him around for about an hour?"
"Hers—" she spat the hairbrush out onto her desk. "Who's this he, Julia? The president of the United States or something?"
"He's my uncle, Jervis Pendleton! He's my daddy's younger brother and I practically haven't seen him since I was born and he's practically the head of New York society!" Julia practically shrieked.
"Oh, of course. How stupid of me. Anyone ought to have known. Why on earth is he here? There's my shoe!"
"He's in town and the whimsical man 'popped in' to see me, but I can't get out of Geometry or Fowler will kill me, not to mention my mother. Please, Judy?"
"All right, all right. Where is this social paragon?"
"In the reception room. Thank you so much!"
"What should I say to him?"
"Just show him around. You don't have to say anything in particular, you know!"
"I suppose not. Have you seen my blue hair comb?"
"Sallie borrowed it when she went out with Harry on Tuesday. I think it's on her desk. But I can't fetch it now! You're a perfect angel, Judy!"
"I may be a perfect angel," thought Judy darkly as Julia dashed off again, "but if I have to spend more than sixty minutes exactly with an uncle of Julia's I think I may end up losing my wings."
She glanced in the mirror automatically, shook her head, changed her skirt, fetched the blue comb, and walked slowly down the stairs to the reception room, not anxious to meet any Pendleton.
The first impression she received of the man was one of perfect undisturbed gentility. He wore a pressed white flannel suit, had his legs fashionably crossed, and his eyes as she entered looked heavy lidded and dull. He was paging through a magazine, and hat and stick and gloves sat in very neat piles next to him.
But as soon as she stepped into the room, he glanced up. His very dark eyes seemed to light with quick appreciative interest, and he rose...or rather unfolded himself. Judy thought that if he put on his hat, it would have touched the ceiling.
"Good afternoon, Mr Pendleton," she greeted, extending her hand. "I'm Julia's friend Judy. She has a class that she can't cut, and so..."
"...she asked you to take care of her bothersome uncle, didn't she?" he completed for her. He almost smiled—his mouth just wrinkled up and his eyes sparkled.
"More or less," she admitted, smiling back. "Anyway she asked me to show you around until she could get at you herself. Is that all right?"
"Perfectly. If you don't mind...you look like you were about to go out."
"Don't worry; if I really didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be."
"I hope you don't apply that philosophy to your schoolwork."
"I hate my schoolwork much less often than one would think. Here, this way."
He followed her quite readily, pulling on his gloves and swinging his silver knobbed stick, but leaving his hat quite unattended on the bench.
"Did you mean to leave the hat?" she enquired as they stepped outside.
"Oh, bother that old hat," he said impatiently. "I hate hats. They do me no good and they get in my way."
"I suppose you don't burn in the sun."
"No, never. I just get dark, and who's afraid of that?"
"Hats can be such fun. Julia has one with a bird-of-paradise and six pink roses that is perfectly killing...I mean lovely."
"A whale of a hat, is it?"
She glanced at him in surprise, but his face held the serene, mildly interested look of someone engaged in ordinary small talk. He didn't seem to realise that he had just said 'a whale of a hat' as though it were the most proper, well bred thing in the world to say. But she thought she could detect just the faintest hint of a sparkle in the depths of his brown eyes.
"That's just it. A whale of a hat. Her grandmother bought it for her in Paris. I think it must have cost a fortune and a half. Oh! But I suppose her grandmother is your mother!"
"If she was in Paris, then undoubtedly so. I think my brother's mother-in-law spends her days knitting in a rocking chair and telling people how well her daughter married and what they're expecting from Julia, who has grown so beautiful."
"That's just what Julia said she does! Well, as you've probably guessed, that building we just left is the Fergusson Dormitory, and this to your right is the quadrangle. That's the library."
"Oh, I see, Julia asked you to show me around, didn't she? Well, proceed. I'll be more likely to be looking at scenery than architecture, but the buildings seem fine."
"Yes, sir, and this is the gas plant. I'm sure you'll find this just as fascinating as I do. Would you believe that this building has the ability to supply gas to the entire campus?" She grinned mischievously.
"I'm positive I find it just as fascinating as you do, Miss—Miss what's-your-name?"
"Judy Abbott. It's Jerusha, really, but I like Judy better."
"So do I. Jerusha is pretty awful. Isn't it a shame that Jervis hasn't a nice diminutive like Judy?"
"I rather like Jervis, though. It's a queer old fashioned name, but it does sound distinguished."
"Probably that's what my parents were thinking when they gave it to me." He half-smiled again. "Well, this is quite a building. What on earth do you do here?"
"That's the gymnasium," she said rather wistfully. "We run about and play basketball and all kinds of things when the weather's bad, and I believe someone is donating a pool soon."
"I interrupted a game of some sort, didn't I?" he asked, with quick penetration. "I'm dreadfully sorry I called you away from...I suppose it's basketball, isn't it?"
"How could you know that?"
The almost-smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "It simply came to me. Do you like it? Basketball, I mean."
"Ever so much. It's so nice to have something to do, rather than just sit about and read."
"I agree whole-heartedly, although I prefer baseball myself."
"You'd be such a fine basketball player; you're so tall! That's the infirmary. Isn't it a handsome building?"
"Rather. Romanesque?"
"Tudor," she affirmed. "It's one of my favourite buildings."
"Really?"
"Yes. Something extraordinarily nice happened to me in it once. That's the Lincoln Dormitory. I should hate to live there; the girls say it has mice. Still, I suppose they're better than centipedes." She shuddered.
"Don't they ever clean this university?"
"Oh, of course. The mice and things aren't their fault. They even hired some people to come in and get them away, and spent who-knows-how-much money and time, but they will keep coming back. Makes you think of Bobby Burns, doesn't it? 'The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.'"
"The Bard was quite a man, wasn't he? Not what you'd call good, but ardent."
"I'd say that he was good, or at least his good qualities outweighed his bad ones."
Mr Pendleton shook his head. "He had good qualities, undoubtedly. But you might as well go ahead and say 'I can kill my friend if only I give someone a million dollars.'"
"Some people believe that," she said, grinning.
"I wonder, does God? I mean, if you can earn a clean slate, where's forgiveness? Now, what's this corking place?"
"That's the pine walk. If you go up that hill, there's a gate, and outside the gate is the College Inn where we girls go when we have money and are feeling exuberant. That's the chapel in that valley. See how low it is? We go in boats when it rains."
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. The half smile started to his face like the sun coming out.
"How's the fishing?" he asked.
"Hanging! I caught fifteen shoes and a parasol in October. Very convenient!"
"Still, I like the chapel. It reminds me of the chapel near the house I grew up in. And isn't that ivy lovely?"
By the time she had shown him everything she could reasonably expect him to find interesting, they had made a complete loop and stood outside the Fergusson House.
"I like your campus, Judy," he said. "I like the trees and the buildings; I even like the dandelions, though I expect they get on the gardeners nerves. Now, all this excitement has made me terribly weak. I dearly need some tea—what about that Inn you told me about, by the pine walk?"
Judy was doubtful. "Sallie and Julia will be coming out of recitations soon, and we should probably..."
"Oh, hang Sallie and Julia! I don't like my nieces drinking too much tea; it makes them nervous. Besides, I want to talk to you some more."
Judy blushed and smiled. "All right. But I haven't any money."
"I'll pay for it."
He strode into the inn with her on his arm as if he owned it and caught the attention of the waiter.
"Comrade! If you please, I'd like a table. On that balcony, if there's room."
"Of course, sir. This way, please, with your lady."
As Mr Pendleton helped her into her chair, she thought how lovely the view was. She had never been on the balcony before; it was always crowded. But now it was completely empty, and the waiter looked calmer than he ever had as he stood before them, pen poised, to attend to their every wish.
"Two cups of tea, comrade, and a dish of muffins and some marmalade. Presently I think we'll want cake and ice cream, but not just yet."
"Of course, sir, right away."
"I don't ask if you care for ice cream," he informed her, leaning back in his chair, "because I feel that one with your disposition could not possibly dislike it."
"What disposition?" she asked in surprise.
"Sweet."
He half-smiled at her evident confusion. "So, you said you like college, Miss Abbott. What do you take here?" he asked.
"French, Latin, English, Physiology and Geometry."
"Good heavens. French, Latin, and English? Soon you'll be able to communicate with half the world!"
"Not as I learn them, I'm afraid. Although my English is progressing beautifully."
"Do you like English?"
"Most of the time. I want to be a writer."
"Have you written anything?"
After a few minutes of his questions and her responses, she said, "Why are you cross examining me?"
"Isn't this called 'small talk'?"
"I don't think you're very good at it, Mr Pendleton."
"Ah, comrade Waiter. Thank you."
The dish set before her was heaped with toasted muffins that steamed and smelled like heaven; orange marmalade oozed from the broken ones and dripped onto the clean white plate. Black tea followed, and a pitcher of cream and a sugar bowl. Judy selected two lumps of sugar with the delicate tongs, but Jervis unashamedly picked out six lumps with his fingers and dumped them in his tea. Then he took another one and ate it.
"These muffins taste like heaven," he commented a minute later.
"The muffins here are excellent. They mix up the batter in the morning and then bake them as soon as you order them, so they're fresh. Marty Keen's papa is an inspector, and he comes here to see."
Mr Pendleton ate seven muffins before drinking off his tea in one swallow as she watched, fascinated. She herself ate four muffins.
"I am beginning to feel quite re-energised. Now, Miss Abbott, if you won't talk small talk, what talk will you talk?"
"Are you really Julia's uncle?"
"Personal details on the first meeting, Miss Abbott? Her father is my older brother."
"Do you like her?"
"Not at all."
She stifled a laugh. "Why not?"
"I caught a glimpse of her as a baby and decided I didn't. Anyway, I hate her mother."
"Oh, but Mrs Pendleton was a Rutherford! Her family is connected by marriage to Henry the Eighth!"
His eyes sparkled. "While that undoubtedly raises her moral standard considerably, it does nothing to improve my opinion of her. She's a high minded society snob with a Grecian nose and an upper class accent. Anyway, she always used to make me go to her horrible dinner parties until I told her I wouldn't anymore."
"What on earth is so wrong with dinner parties?"
"Society, my dear Miss Abbott. Have you never encountered it? It's a low voiced, well bred cover for scandal and hatred. And she was always sure to set me down with Catherine Potter or one of those other empty headed society girls."
"Well, couldn't you ignore all that and just enjoy what I'm sure is fine food?"
"That's your philosophy of atonement coming in again!"
She laughed.
She laughed a lot that afternoon. He never did more than smile his funny underneath half smile, but it was the same thing after all, she thought. He always smiled at exactly the right time, and when he made a witticism she always found it terribly funny.
When the sun began to shift from yellow to gold and head towards the horizon, and after every single muffin had been cleaned from the plate and every spoonful of ice cream and slice of cake and drop of tea, Mr Pendleton leaned back, consulted a small golden watch in his pocket, and stood up.
"I'll be late for my train if we don't hurry back," he said. He offered her his hand to help her up. "What a splendid meal that was!"
"Your train? Oh, no! Julia!"
"Don't worry about Julia so much!"
"But she was so anxious when you came and she wasn't..."
"There, what did I tell you? It's all this tea-drinking she does here! It makes her easily upset! I'll see her and take leave before I skidoo, will that please you?"
Judy tried to walk as fast as possible down the hill to the dormitory, but Mr Pendleton kept easy stride with her, and once told her to slow down.
"We can't make Julia any less angry by arriving two minutes before I have to go catch my train than we can by arriving one minute before. Calm down, Judy. Or did you want to be rid of me?" half smiling.
"No, of course not! I had a lovely day; much lovelier than I expected. I think you're lovely, Mr Pendleton. But I don't want to spoil it with a row."
"Well, if the row's coming, we might as well put it off as long as possible."
"I'd rather have it over with."
Whatever Mr Pendleton might say, they eventually reached the dorm. Judy gazed at it and sighed.
She felt him press her arm. "Well, come on then. Like you said, might as well have it over with, eh?"
She nodded.
Julia was livid. When she saw her Uncle Jervis enter, casual as could be, with Judy, she looked as though she might faint.
"Uncle, where have you been? I've been out of class for an hour and a half! Judy, where on earth did you take him?"
Jervis settled his hat on his head. It didn't quite reach the ceiling, but if he had stood on his tiptoes the poor hat would have become rather crushed.
"I'm terribly sorry, Julia, but I have to run if I want to catch my train. Awfully glad to see you, my dear." He kissed her. "Your little friend is quite charming. And I assure you, the delay was entirely my fault—she would have come back for you, but I convinced her to come to tea with me. How do you do, Miss MacBride?"
Sallie curtsied and watched with round eyes as he strode out, swinging his cane and humming a show tune.
"Judy, Judy, how could you?" Julia wailed. "He's such a rich and desirable uncle! I hardly got to see him at all! Oh, Judy, how could you?"
"He's rich? Oh, I'm glad of that," Judy said. She leaned against the doorframe and didn't seem to pay much attention to what she was saying.
"Why on earth?" Sallie asked.
"Because the tea and things cost sixty cents apiece."
"Did you go to the College Inn?" Sallie enquired, interested.
"Yes. It was beautifully empty."
"Judy, if you ever do anything like this ever again..."
"Oh, Julia, he told you; she didn't do it, it was all his fault. And who could blame him, too, with her looking so pretty and dimply today? Say, Judy, what was he like? What did you talk about? Was he fun?"
"I think he's a real solid brick," Judy replied.
Dear Daddy Long Legs...