Dear Enemy by Jean Webster
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Jean Webster >> Dear Enemy by Jean Webster
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16 DEAR ENEMY
STONE GATE, WORCESTER,
MASSACHUSETTS,
December 27.
Dear Judy:
Your letter is here. I have read it twice, and with amazement.
Do I understand that Jervis has given you, for a Christmas
present, the making over of the John Grier Home into a model
institution, and that you have chosen me to disburse the money?
Me--I, Sallie McBride, the head of an orphan asylum! My poor
people, have you lost your senses, or have you become addicted to
the use of opium, and is this the raving of two fevered
imaginations? I am exactly as well fitted to take care of one
hundred children as to become the curator of a zoo.
And you offer as bait an interesting Scotch doctor? My dear
Judy,--likewise my dear Jervis,--I see through you! I know
exactly the kind of family conference that has been held about
the Pendleton fireside.
"Isn't it a pity that Sallie hasn't amounted to more since
she left college? She ought to be doing something useful instead
of frittering her time away in the petty social life of
Worcester. Also [Jervis speaks] she is getting interested in
that confounded young Hallock, too good-looking and fascinating
and erratic; I never did like politicians. We must deflect her
mind with some uplifting and absorbing occupation until the
danger is past. Ha! I have it! We will put her in charge of
the John Grier Home." Oh, I can hear him as clearly as if I were
there! On the occasion of my last visit in your delectable
household Jervis and I had a very solemn conversation in regard
to (1) marriage, (2) the low ideals of politicians, (3) the
frivolous, useless lives that society women lead.
Please tell your moral husband that I took his words deeply
to heart, and that ever since my return to Worcester I have been
spending one afternoon a week reading poetry with the inmates of
the Female Inebriate Asylum. My life is not so purposeless as it
appears.
Also let me assure you that the politician is not dangerously
imminent; and that, anyway, he is a very desirable politician,
even though his views on tariff and single tax and trade-unionism
do not exactly coincide with Jervis's.
Your desire to dedicate my life to the public good is very
sweet, but you should look at it from the asylum's point of view.
Have you no pity for those poor defenseless little orphan
children?
I have, if you haven't, and I respectfully decline the
position which you offer.
I shall be charmed, however, to accept your invitation to
visit you in New York, though I must acknowledge that I am not
very excited over the list of gaieties you have planned.
Please substitute for the New York Orphanage and the
Foundling Hospital a few theaters and operas and a dinner or so.
I have two new evening gowns and a blue and gold coat with a
white fur collar.
I dash to pack them; so telegraph fast if you don't wish to
see me for myself alone, but only as a successor to Mrs. Lippett.
Yours as ever,
Entirely frivolous,
And intending to remain so,
SALLIE McBRIDE.
P.S. Your invitation is especially seasonable. A charming young
politician named Gordon Hallock is to be in New York next week.
I am sure you will like him when you know him better. P.S. 2.
Sallie taking her afternoon walk as Judy would like to see her:
I ask you again, have you both gone mad?
THE JOHN GRIER HOME,
February 15.
Dear Judy:
We arrived in a snowstorm at eleven last night, Singapore and
Jane and I. It does not appear to be customary for
superintendents of orphan asylums to bring with them personal
maids and Chinese chows. The night watchman and housekeeper, who
had waited up to receive me, were thrown into an awful flutter.
They had never seen the like of Sing, and thought that I was
introducing a wolf into the fold. I reassured them as to his
dogginess, and the watchman, after studying his black tongue,
ventured a witticism. He wanted to know if I fed him on
huckleberry pie.
It was difficult to find accommodations for my family, Poor
Sing was dragged off whimpering to a strange woodshed, and given
a piece of burlap. Jane did not fare much better. There was not
an extra bed in the building, barring a five-foot crib in the
hospital room. She, as you know, approaches six. We tucked her
in, and she spent the night folded up like a jackknife. She has
limped about today, looking like a decrepit letter S, openly
deploring this latest escapade on the part of her flighty
mistress, and longing for the time when we shall come to our
senses, and return to the parental fireside in Worcester.
I know that she is going to spoil all my chances of being
popular with the rest of the staff. Having her here is the
silliest idea that was ever conceived, but you know my family. I
fought their objections step by step, but they made their last
stand on Jane. If I brought her along to see that I ate
nourishing food and didn't stay up all night, I might come--
temporarily; but if I refused to bring her--oh, dear me, I am
not sure that I was ever again to cross the threshold of Stone
Gate! So here we are, and neither of us very welcome, I am
afraid.
I woke by a gong at six this morning, and lay for a time
listening to the racket that twenty-five little girls made in the
lavatory over my head. It appears that they do not get baths,--
just face-washes,--but they make as much splashing as twenty-five
puppies in a pool. I rose and dressed and explored a bit. You
were wise in not having me come to look the place over before I
engaged.
While my little charges were at breakfast, it seemed a happy
time to introduce myself; so I sought the dining room. Horror
piled on horror--those bare drab walls and oil-cloth-covered
tables with tin cups and plates and wooden benches, and, by way
of decoration, that one illuminated text, "The Lord Will
Provide"! The trustee who added that last touch must possess a
grim sense of humor.
Really, Judy, I never knew there was any spot in the world so
entirely ugly; and when I saw those rows and rows of pale,
listless, blue-uniformed children, the whole dismal business
suddenly struck me with such a shock that I almost collapsed. It
seemed like an unachievable goal for one person to bring sunshine
to one hundred little faces when what they need is a mother
apiece.
I plunged into this thing lightly enough, partly because you
were too persuasive, and mostly, I honestly think, because that
scurrilous Gordon Hallock laughed so uproariously at the idea of
my being able to manage an asylum. Between you all you
hypnotized me. And then of course, after I began reading up on
the subject and visiting all those seventeen institutions, I got
excited over orphans, and wanted to put my own ideas into
practice. But now I'm aghast at finding myself here; it's such a
stupendous undertaking. The future health and happiness of a
hundred human beings lie in my hands, to say nothing of their
three or four hundred children and thousand grandchildren. The
thing's geometrically progressive. It's awful. Who am I to
undertake this job? Look, oh, look for another superintendent!
Jane says dinner's ready. Having eaten two of your
institution meals, the thought of another doesn't excite me.
LATER.
The staff had mutton hash and spinach, with tapioca pudding
for dessert. What the children had I hate to consider.
I started to tell you about my first official speech at
breakfast this morning. It dealt with all the wonderful new
changes that are to come to the John Grier Home through the
generosity of Mr. Jervis Pendleton, the president of our board of
trustees, and of Mrs. Pendleton, the dear "Aunt Judy" of every
little boy and girl here.
Please don't object to my featuring the Pendleton family so
prominently. I did it for political reasons. As the entire
working staff of the institution was present, I thought it a good
opportunity to emphasize the fact that all of these upsetting,
innovations come straight from headquarters, and not out of my
excitable brain.
The children stopped eating and stared. The conspicuous
color of my hair and the frivolous tilt of my nose are evidently
new attributes in a superintendent. My colleagues also showed
plainly that they consider me too young and too inexperienced to
be set in authority. I haven't seen Jervis's wonderful Scotch
doctor yet, but I assure you that he will have to be VERY
wonderful to make up for the rest of these people, especially the
kindergarten teacher. Miss Snaith and I clashed early on the
subject of fresh air; but I intend to get rid of this dreadful
institution smell, if I freeze every child into a little ice
statue.
This being a sunny, sparkling, snowy afternoon, I ordered
that dungeon of a playroom closed and the children out of doors.
"She's chasin' us out," I heard one small urchin grumbling as
he struggled into a two-years-too-small overcoat.
They simply stood about the yard, all humped in their
clothes, waiting patiently to be allowed to come back in. No
running or shouting or coasting or snowballs. Think of it!
These children don't know how to play.
STILL LATER.
I have already begun the congenial task of spending your
money. I bought eleven hot-water bottles this afternoon (every
one that the village drug store contained) likewise some woolen
blankets and padded quilts. And the windows are wide open in the
babies' dormitory. Those poor little tots are going to enjoy the
perfectly new sensation of being able to breathe at night.
There are a million things I want to grumble about, but it's
half-past ten, and Jane says I MUST go to bed.
Yours in command,
SALLIE McBRIDE.
P.S. Before turning in, I tiptoed through the corridor to make
sure that all was right, and what do you think I found? Miss
Snaith softly closing the windows in the babies' dormitory! Just
as soon as I can find a suitable position for her in an old
ladies' home, I am going to discharge that woman.
Jane takes the pen from my hand.
Good night.
THE JOHN GRIER HOME,
February 20.
Dear Judy:
Dr. Robin MacRae called this afternoon to make the acquaintance
of the new superintendent. Please invite him to dinner upon the
occasion of his next visit to New York, and see for yourself what
your husband has done. Jervis grossly misrepresented the facts
when he led me to believe that one of the chief advantages of my
position would be the daily intercourse with a man of Dr.
MacRae's polish and brilliancy and scholarliness and charm.
He is tall and thinnish, with sandy hair and cold gray eyes.
During the hour he spent in my society (and I was very sprightly)
no shadow of a smile so much as lightened the straight line of
his mouth. Can a shadow lighten? Maybe not; but, anyway, what
IS the matter with the man? Has he committed some remorseful
crime, or is his taciturnity due merely to his natural
Scotchness? He's as companionable as a granite tombstone!
Incidentally, our doctor didn't like me any more than I liked
him. He thinks I'm frivolous and inconsequential, and totally
unfitted for this position of trust. I dare say Jervis has had a
letter from him by now asking to have me removed.
In the matter of conversation we didn't hit it off in the
least. He discussed broadly and philosophically the evils of
institutional care for dependent children, while I lightly
deplored the unbecoming coiffure that prevails among our girls.
To prove my point, I had in Sadie Kate, my special errand
orphan. Her hair is strained back as tightly as though it had
been done with a monkey wrench, and is braided behind into two
wiry little pigtails. Decidedly, orphans' ears need to be
softened. But Dr. Robin MacRae doesn't give a hang whether their
ears are becoming or not; what he cares about is their stomachs.
We also split upon the subject of red petticoats. I don't see
how any little girl can preserve any self-respect when dressed in
a red flannel petticoat an irregular inch longer than her blue
checked gingham dress; but he thinks that red petticoats are
cheerful and warm and hygienic. I foresee a warlike reign for
the new superintendent.
In regard to the doctor, there is just one detail to be
thankful for: he is almost as new as I am, and he cannot instruct
me in the traditions of the asylum. I don't believe I COULD have
worked with the old doctor, who, judging from the specimens of
his art that he left behind, knew as much about babies as a
veterinary surgeon.
In the matter of asylum etiquette, the entire staff has
undertaken my education. Even the cook this morning told me
firmly that the John Grier Home has corn meal mush on Wednesday
nights.
Are you searching hard for another superintendent? I'll stay
until she comes, but please find her fast.
Yours,
With my mind made up,
SALLIE McBRIDE.
SUP'T'S OFFICE,
JOHN GRIER HOME,
February 27.
Dear Gordon:
Are you still insulted because I wouldn't take your advice?
Don't you know that a reddish-haired person of Irish forebears,
with a dash of Scotch, can't be driven, but must be gently led?
Had you been less obnoxiously insistent, I should have listened
sweetly, and been saved. As it is, I frankly confess that I have
spent the last five days in repenting our quarrel. You were
right, and I was wrong, and, as you see, I handsomely acknowledge
it. If I ever emerge from this present predicament, I shall in
the future be guided (almost always) by your judgment. Could any
woman make a more sweeping retraction than that?
The romantic glamour which Judy cast over this orphan asylum
exists only in her poetic imagination. The place is AWFUL.
Words can't tell you how dreary and dismal and smelly it is: long
corridors, bare walls; blue-uniformed, dough-faced little inmates
that haven't the slightest resemblance to human children. And
oh, the dreadful institution smell! A mingling of wet scrubbed
floors, unaired rooms, and food for a hundred people always
steaming on the stove.
The asylum not only has to be made over, but every child as
well, and it's too herculean a task for such a selfish,
luxurious, and lazy person as Sallie McBride ever to have
undertaken. I'm resigning the very first moment that Judy can
find a suitable successor, but that, I fear, will not be
immediately. She has gone off South, leaving me stranded, and of
course, after having promised, I can't simply abandon her
asylum. But in the meantime I assure you that I'm homesick.
Write me a cheering letter, and send a flower to brighten my
private drawing room. I inherited it, furnished, from Mrs.
Lippett. The wall is covered with a tapestry paper in brown and
red; the furniture is electric-blue plush, except the center
table, which is gilt. Green predominates in the carpet. If you
presented some pink rosebuds, they would complete the color
scheme.
I really was obnoxious that last evening, but you are
avenged.
Remorsefully yours,
SALLIE McBRIDE.
P.S. You needn't have been so grumpy about the Scotch doctor.
The man is everything dour that the word "Scotch" implies. I
detest him on sight, and he detests me. Oh, we're going to have
a sweet time working together
THE JOHN GRIER HOME,
February 22.
My dear Gordon:
Your vigorous and expensive message is here. I know that you
have plenty of money, but that is no reason why you should waste
it so frivolously. When you feel so bursting with talk that only
a hundred-word telegram will relieve an explosion, at least turn
it into a night lettergram. My orphans can use the money if you
don't need it.
Also, my dear sir, please use a trifle of common sense. Of
course I can't chuck the asylum in the casual manner you
suggest. It wouldn't be fair to Judy and Jervis. If you
will pardon the statement, they have been my friends for many
more years than you, and I have no intention of letting them go
hang. I came up here in a spirit of--well, say adventure, and I
must see the venture through. You wouldn't like me if I were a
short sport. This doesn't mean, however, that I am sentencing
myself for life; I am in tending to resign just as soon as the
opportunity comes. But really I ought to feel somewhat gratified
that the Pendletons were willing to trust me with such a
responsible post. Though you, my dear sir, do not suspect it, I
possess considerable executive ability, and more common sense
than is visible on the surface. If I chose to put my whole soul
into this enterprise, I could make the rippingest superintendent
that any 111 orphans ever had.
I suppose you think that's funny? It's true. Judy and
Jervis know it, and that's why they asked me to come. So you
see, when they have shown so much confidence in me, I can't throw
them over in quite the unceremonious fashion you suggest. So
long as I am here, I am going to accomplish just as much as it is
given one person to accomplish every twenty-four hours. I am
going to turn the place over to my successor with things moving
fast in the right direction.
But in the meantime please don't wash your hands of me under
the belief that I'm too busy to be homesick; for I'm not. I wake
up every morning and stare at Mrs. Lippett's wallpaper in a sort
of daze, feeling as though it's some bad dream, and I'm not
really here. What on earth was I thinking of to turn my back
upon my nice cheerful own home and the good times that by rights
are mine? I frequently agree with your opinion of my sanity.
But why, may I ask, should you be making such a fuss? You
wouldn't be seeing me in any case. Worcester is quite as far
from Washington as the John Grier Home. And I will add, for your
further comfort, that whereas there is no man in the
neighborhood of this asylum who admires red hair, in Worcester
there are several. Therefore, most difficult of men, please be
appeased. I didn't come entirely to spite you. I wanted an
adventure in life, and, oh dear! oh dear! I'm having it!
PLEASE write soon, and cheer me up.
Yours in sackcloth,
SALLIE.
THE JOHN GRIER HOME,
February 24.
Dear Judy:
You tell Jervis that I am not hasty at forming judgments. I have
a sweet, sunny, unsuspicious nature, and I like everybody,
almost. But no one could like that Scotch doctor. He NEVER
smiles.
He paid me another visit this afternoon. I invited him to
accommodate himself in one of Mrs. Lippett's electric-blue
chairs, and then sat down opposite to enjoy the harmony. He was
dressed in a mustard-colored homespun, with a dash of green and a
glint of yellow in the weave, a "heather mixture" calculated to
add life to a dull Scotch moor. Purple socks and a red tie, with
an amethyst pin, completed the picture. Clearly, your paragon of
a doctor is not going to be of much assistance in pulling up the
esthetic tone of this establishment.
During the fifteen minutes of his call he succinctly outlined
all the changes he wishes to see accomplished in this
institution. HE forsooth! And what, may I ask, are the duties
of a superintendent? Is she merely a figurehead to take
orders from the visiting physician?
It's up wi' the bonnets o' McBride and MacRae!
I am,
Indignantly yours,
SALLIE.
THE JOHN GRIER HOME,
Monday.
Dear Dr. MacRae:
I am sending this note by Sadie Kate, as it seems impossible to
reach you by telephone. Is the person who calls herself Mrs.
McGur-rk and hangs up in the middle of a sentence your
housekeeper? If she answers the telephone often, I don't see how
your patients have any patience left.
As you did not come this morning, per agreement, and the
painters did come, I was fain to choose a cheerful corn color to
be placed upon the walls of your new laboratory room. I trust
there is nothing unhygienic about corn color.
Also, if you can spare a moment this afternoon, kindly motor
yourself to Dr. Brice's on Water Street and look at the dentist's
chair and appurtenances which are to be had at half-price. If
all of the pleasant paraphernalia of his profession were here,--
in a corner of your laboratory,--Dr. Brice could finish his 111
new patients with much more despatch than if we had to transport
them separately to Water Street. Don't you think that's a useful
idea? It came to me in the middle of the night, but as I never
happened to buy a dentist's chair before, I'd appreciate some
professional advice.
Yours truly,
S. McBRIDE.
THE JOHN GRIER HOME,
March 1.
Dear Judy:
Do stop sending me telegrams!
Of course I know that you want to know everything that is
happening, and I would send a daily bulletin, but I truly don't
find a minute. I am so tired when night comes that if it weren't
for Jane's strict discipline, I should go to bed with my clothes
on.
Later, when we slip a little more into routine, and I can be
sure that my assistants are all running off their respective
jobs, I shall be the regularest correspondent you ever had.
It was five days ago, wasn't it, that I wrote? Things have
been happening in those five days. The MacRae and I have mapped
out a plan of campaign, and are stirring up this place to its
sluggish depths. I like him less and less, but we have declared
a sort of working truce. And the man IS a worker. I always
thought I had sufficient energy myself, but when an improvement
is to be introduced, I toil along panting in his wake. He is as
stubborn and tenacious and bull-doggish as a Scotchman can be,
but he does understand babies; that is, he understands their
physiological aspects. He hasn't any more feeling for them
personally than for so many frogs that he might happen to be
dissecting.
Do you remember Jervis's holding forth one evening for an
hour or so about our doctor's beautiful humanitarian ideals?
C'EST A RIRE! The man merely regards the J. G. H. as his own
private laboratory, where he can try out scientific experiments
with no loving parents to object. I shouldn't be surprised
anyday to find him introducing scarlet fever cultures into
the babies' porridge in order to test a newly invented serum.
Of the house staff, the only two who strike me as really
efficient are the primary teacher and the furnace-man. You
should see how the children run to meet Miss Matthews and beg for
caresses, and how painstakingly polite they are to the other
teachers. Children are quick to size up character. I shall be
very embarrassed if they are too polite to me.
Just as soon as I get my bearings a little, and know exactly
what we need, I am going to accomplish some widespread
discharging. I should like to begin with Miss Snaith; but I
discover that she is the niece of one of our most generous
trustees, and isn't exactly dischargeable. She's a vague,
chinless, pale-eyed creature, who talks through her nose and
breathes through her mouth. She can't say anything decisively
and then stop; her sentences all trail off into incoherent
murmurings. Every time I see the woman I feel an almost
uncontrollable desire to take her by the shoulders and shake some
decision into her. And Miss Snaith is the one who has had entire
supervision of the seventeen little tots aged from two to five!
But, anyway, even if I can't discharge her, I have reduced her to
a subordinate position without her being aware of the fact.
The doctor has found for me a charming girl who lives a few
miles from here and comes in every day to manage the
kindergarten. She has big, gentle, brown eyes, like a cow's, and
motherly manners (she is just nineteen), and the babies love her.
At the head of the nursery I have placed a jolly, comfortable
middle-aged woman who has reared five of her own and has a hand
with bairns. Our doctor also found her. You see, he is useful.
She is technically under Miss Snaith, but is usurping
dictatorship in a satisfactory fashion. I can now sleep at night
without being afraid that my babies are being inefficiently
murdered.
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