"The question of your future came up at today's meeting," Mrs. Lippett repeated.
"And we discussed it in great detail."
I continued to sit in stunned silence in the matron's office.
"You've done well here, Jerusha," she went on.
"And we let you attend the village high school.
Despite some problems with your behavior."
She frowned at me. I tried to look guilty.
"But you're 18 now and finishing high school.
We can't take care of you for much longer.
As you know, we don't often keep orphans after age 16.
You were lucky to have two extra years here."
I'd worked hard in exchange for my stay at the orphanage for those two extra years.
And my education had always come second.
Today, for example, Mrs. Lippett had kept me home from school to work.
But I was too anxious about my future to say anything.
"Usually we'd send you out to find a job.
However, your grades have been excellent.
Miss Pritchard, who's on our ladies' committee, talked to your English teacher.
The teacher said your work was brilliant.
She also gave Miss Pritchard a story you'd written called 'Blue Wednesday.'"
This time my guilty expression was real.
Mrs. Lippett always said my imagination would get me into trouble.
And now, I guess, it had. "Blue Wednesday" was a work of fiction.
But it was based on the days when the trustees and ladies' committee came to visit.
"Miss Pritchard read that story aloud to us.
I think it was rude to mock the orphanage.
Especially after we've done so much for you." Mrs. Lippett looked at me with disapproval.
"Luckily, some people have a strange sense of humor and found your story funny.
Mr.—that is, the trustee who just left—thought it quite amusing.
On the strength of that disrespectful paper, he's sending you to college!"
"To college?" My eyes grew big.
Mrs. Lippett nodded.
"He waited until after the meeting to discuss the details with me.
They are quite unusual. I must say the gentleman is odd.
He believes you have talent.
He plans to educate you to become a writer!"
"A writer?" I said in shock.
"Who knows if you'll succeed. Only time will tell."
The matron described the trustee's plan.
I would spend the rest of the summer working at the orphanage.
Miss Pritchard would help me choose new clothes.
The trustee would pay for them.
He would also pay my tuition and board directly to the college.
I would also receive an allowance of 35 dollars a month.
"That's a very generous amount, Jerusha," said Mrs. Lippett.
"Far too generous for a girl who has never managed her own money.
But he wanted you to feel equal to the other girls at college."
Mrs. Lippett explained that the trustee's secretary would send me the money every month.
"In return for all this, you must write letters to the trustee," she said.
"These letters should not just be thank-you notes!"
"Then what should I write about?" This gentleman did sound very odd.
"He wants you to write about your studies and your daily life.
Write a letter like you'd write to your parents—if you had parents."
Mrs. Lippett had more strange instructions for me.
The gentleman's name was not Mr. John Smith, yet that was how I should address the letters.
I should mail them to his secretary, Mr. Griggs.
"Mr. Smith will never answer your letters.
He hates writing letters!
However, he wants to keep track of your progress.
He thinks letter writing is good training for a future author.
The letters are the only thanks he requires, so treat them like a bill that must be paid.
If there is an emergency . . ."
"An emergency?" I hadn't thought about having an emergency at college.
"For example, if you are expelled . . . Oh my!
I hope that doesn't happen.
What an embarrassment for the John Grier Home!"
Mrs. Lippett paused for a moment to calm herself, and then began again.
"If you have an emergency, you may write to Mr. Griggs."
I looked at the door.
My head was whirring with excitement, and I wanted to escape.
I needed to think.
I stood up. But Mrs. Lippett shook her head and I sat back down.
"I hope that you're grateful for this wonderful opportunity.
Not many orphans get a chance to rise in the world.
I hope your behavior will make us proud at the John Grier Home.
You must always remember—"
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.
I must sew a patch on one of the orphan's shirts. Right now."
I leaped up and fled, leaving Mrs. Lippett standing there with her mouth open.