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About The North Platte semi-weekly tribune. (North Platte, Neb.) 1895-1922 | View Entire Issue (June 27, 1922)
THE NORTH PLATTE SEMI-WEEKLY TRIBUNE MARY iMARIE Hy Eleanor H. Porter Illustrations by H. Livingstone C-rrrUVI br KUaw B. r.ru CHAPTER YI Continued. ribld a Httle more nbont Mr. Easter brook, too, so Fnthcr'd know who ho was n now friend of Motlicr'8 that Td never known till I came back this time, nnd how ho was very rich and n moat estimable man. That Aunt Hattle said so. Then I told him that In the after noon another gentleman came nnd took us to n perfectly beautiful con cert. And I finished up by telling about the Christmas party In tho eve ning, nnd how lovely tho house looked, nnd Mother, nnd thnt they said I looked nice, too. And that wns all. And when I had got It done, I saw that 1 had written n long letter, n great long letter. And I was almost afraid It was too long, till I remembered that Father had asked mo for It; ho had asked mo to tell him nil about what I did on Christ mas day. So I sent It off. MARCH . Yes, I know It's been quite a while, but there hnsn't been a thing to sny nothing new or exciting, I mean. There's Just school, and the usual things, only Mr. Eastorbrool; doesn't come any more. (Of course, tho vio linist hasn't come since thnt day he proposed.) I don't know whether Mr. Eastcrbrook proposed or not. 1 only know that all of a sudden he stopped coming. I don't know the reason. I don't overhear so much as I used to, anyway. Not but that I'm In tho library window-scat Just the same; but 'most everybody that comes In looks there right off; nnd, of cotir.se. who they nee me they don't hardly ever go on with what they arc saying. So It Just naturally follows thut I don't overhear things ns I used to. Not that there's much to hear, though. Itcnlly, there Just Isn't any thing going on, and things aren't half so lively as they used to be when "Mr. Eastcrbrook was hero, and nil the rst. They've all stopped coining, now,' 'most. I've about given up evor having a love story of Mother's to put In. And mine, too. Here I nm nfteen next month, going on sixteen. (Why, thut brook nnd river met long ago I) But Mother Is getting to be almost as bad as Aunt Juno was about tuy re ceiving proper attentions from young men. Oh, sho lots me go to places, u little, with the boys ut school; but I always havo to be chaperoned. And whenever nro they going to havo a chance to say anything reully thrilling with Mother or AuutHnttlo right at my elbowV Echo answers never I So I've about given up that's amountlug to unythlng, either. Of course, there's Fattier left, nnd of course, when I go back to Ander fionvllle this- summer, thoro may bo something doing there. But I doubt It. 1 forgot to sny I haven't heurd from Father again, I utiBwercd his Christ-, iwia letter, us I suld, and wrote JuBt as nico as 1 knew how, and told him nil he asked mo to. But he never un sworn!, nor wrote ngnln. I am dis appointed, I'll own up, I thought ho would write, I think Mother did, too. She's asked me ever so many times If I hadn't heard from him again. And she always looks so sort of funny when I say no sort of gad and sorry together, all (n one. ' Sut( then. Mother's queer In lots of wnys now. For Instance: One week ago sho gave me a perfectly lovely box of chocolates a whole two-pound box nil at once; nnd I've never had lnorojjian a hulf-pound at once before. But Just ns I was thinking how for once I was going to havo u'reul feast, and all I wanted to eat what do you think she told mo? Sho said I could have three nieces, ami only threo pieces a duy; and not one littlo tiny one more. And when I asked her whyi she gave mo such a big box for, then, if tlrnt was all I could have, she said .It was to teach mo sclf-dlsclpltne. That elf-dlscipllno was one of the most wonderful things In the world. That Mf she'd only been taught It when sho" was a girl, hervllfo would havo been very, very different. And so sho was giving ine a great big box of 'choco lates for my very own, Just so ns to teach mo to deny myself land take only three pieces ovory day. Three pieces I and ull that whole, big box of them Just making my mouth water ull tho while; nnd ull Just to teach ino that horrid old solf-dlscl- nllnel Why. you'd think It was Aunt Jane doing It Instend of Mother I ONE WEEK LATER It's come Father' letter. It caine. laatn)fiht Oh, It was short, and It didh't say anything about what I wrote But I waa iroud of It, Just tho eama. I Jutft.gMeBS I was I Ho didn't get Aunt Jonc to wrlto to Mother, as he did before. And then,' bosldcs.he must have 'forgotten his stura long enjaigJUtt ChliijLiitnmtt Ul!o-for remembered about the school, and thnt I couldn't go Ihero In Anderson villi1, nnd so he said I had better stay hero till It finished. And I was so glad to stay I It made mo very happy that letter. It made Mother happy, too. She liked It, and, she thought It was very, very kind of Father to be willing to give me up almost three whole months of Ills six, so I could go to school here. And sho said so. She said once to Aunt Hnctlo that she was almost tempted to wrlto and thnnk him. But Aunt Hnttto snlih "Pooh," and It was no more thnn ho ought to do, nnd that sho wouldn't bo seen writing to a man who so care fully avoided writing to her. So Mother didn't do It, I guess. But 1 wrote. I hnd to write threo letters, though, before I got ono that Mother said would do to send. Tho first one sounded so glad I was stay ing that Mother said she was afraid ho would feel hurt, and that would be too bad when he'd been so kind. And the second one sounded ns If I was so sorry not to go to Andersonvlllo tho first of April thnt Mother said that would never do In the world. He'd think I didn't want to stay In Boston. But tho third letter I managed to make Just glad enough to stny, and Just sorry enough not to go. So that Mother said It was all right. And I sent It. APRIL Well, the last chocolate drop went yesterday. There were Just seventy six pieces In thnt two-pound box. I counted them that first day. Of course, they were fine nnd dandy, and I Just loved them; but the trouble Is, for the last week I've been eating sucfr snippy little pieces. You see, every day, with out' thinking, I'd Just naturally pick out tho biggest pieces. So you can lmaglno what they got down to townrd the last mostly chocolate almonds. As for the self-discipline I don't seo as I feel any more disciplined than I did before, nnd I know I want choco lates Just ns much ns ever. And I said so to Mother. But Mother Is queer. Honestly she Is. And I can't heir wondering Is she getting to be tike Aunt .lnne7 Now, listen to this: Last week I hud to have a new pnrty dress, and we found u perfect darling of a pink silk, all gold bends, and gold slippers to match. And I knew I'd look perfectly divine In It; nmfonce Mother would hnvo got It for me. But not this time. She got a horrid white raus lln with dots In It, nnl blue silk snsh, suitable for a child for anv child. Of course, I whb disappointed, and 1 -uippo'c I did show It some. In fact, I'm afnild I showed It a whole lot. Mother didn't say anything then; but on the way home In the car she put bet' arm around mo and said: "I'm sorry abour the phils dress, dear. I knew you wanted it. But It was not suitable ut all for you not until you're older, dear. Mother will have to look out that her little daugh ter Isn't getting to be vain, and too fond of dress." I knew then, of course, that It was Just some more of that self-discipline business. But Mother never used to way any thing about self-discipline. Is she getting to he like Aunt Jans? ONE WEEK LATER Sho Is. I know she Is now. I'm learning to cools to cookf And It's Mother thut says I must. She tottl Aunt Hattle I heard her that she thought every girt should know how to cook und keep house; nnd that If she hnd learned those things wheiv slu? wns a girl, her life wonld have- been quite different, she was surw. I nm learning at a domestfc science school, und Mother Is going with me. I didn't mind so much when she salit she'd go, too. And, really. It la quite a lot of fun really It Is. Knt It Is queer Mother nnd I gotng to school together to lenrn how to mate bread and enko and boll potatoes! And, of course, Aunt Hattle laughs at us. But I don't mind. And Mother doesn't, cither. But, oh, how Aunt June would love It, If she only know I MAY What do you suppose I nm learning. now? You'd never guess. Stars. Yes, stars! And thut la for Father, too., Motticr cume Into my room one day with a book of Grandfather's under her arm. She suld It was a very won derful work on astronomy, and she was sure 1 would tlnd it Interesting. She said she wus going to read It uloud to me an hour a day. And then, when I got to Andersonvlllo und Father talked Jo me, I'd know some thing. And he'd be pleased. She said sho thought wc owed It to Father, iffter ho'd been so good and. kind us to let mo stny here almost three wholo months of his. six, so could keep on with my school. And that she was very suns this would ! please aim and make him happy. And so, for 'most a week now, Moth er has read to bo an hour a day out of that nstronoiriy book. Then wo talk about It. And It la Interesting. Moth er suys It Is, too. She says showlshes she'd knwwn something about astrono my when 8hu was a girl; that she's Buro It would have made things a wholo lot easier and happier all nround, when she married Father; for then she would hnvo known some thing ubout something he wns inter ested In. She said she couldn't help that now, of course ; but she could see that I know something about such things. It seems so funny to hear her talk such a lot about Father as she docs, when bcforo.sho never used to men tion him only to .say how afnnld sho was that I would lovo him better than I did her, and to make me sny over and over again thut I didn't. And I said so one day to her I mean, I said I thought It was funny, the way she talked now. She colored up and bit her lip, nnd gave a queer little laugti. Then she grew very sober and grave, nnd snld: "I know, dear. Perhaps I am talk ing more thnn I used to. But, you see, I've been thinking quite a lot, and I I've learned some things. I'm trying to mnke you forget what I said about your loving me more thnn him. That J wnsn't right, dear. Mother was wrong. She shouldn't try to Influence you against your father, He is a good man; und there arc none too many good men in the world No, no, I won't cay thnt," she broke off. But she'd already said It, and, of course, I knew she was thinking of the violinist. I'm no child. She went on more after that, quite a lot more. And she said again that I must love Father and try to please him In every way; and she cried n lit tle and talked a lot about how hard It wus in my position, und that she was afraid she'd only been making It harder, through her selfishness, and I must forgive her, and try to forget It. And she u as sure she'd do better now. And sho said that, after all, life wasn't In Just being happy yourself. It was la how much happiness you could give to others. Oh, It waa lovely I And I cried, and she cried some more, nnd wo kissed each other, and I promised. And nfter she went nwny I felt all upntlsed and holy, like you do when you've been to a beautiful church service with soft music und colored windows, und everybody kneeling. And I felt ns If Id never be nuughty or thoughtless again. And thnt I'd never mind being Mary now. Why, I'd bo glud to bo Mury half the time, and even more for Father. But, alas I Listen. Would you bcllove It? Just that same evening Mother stopped me against laughing too loud nnd mak ing too much noise playing with Les ter; nnd I felt cross. 1 Just boiled Inside of me, nnd said I hated Mary, and that .Mother was getting to bo Just like Aunt Jane. And yet, Just thnt morning Oh, If only that hushed, stained- wlndow-soft-nnislc feeling would Inst I JUNE Well, once more school Is- done, my trunk Is nil packed, and I'm ready to go to Andersonvllle. I leave tomorrow morning. But not ns I left last year. Oh. no. It Is very, very different. Why this year I'm really going ua Mary. Honestly, Mother has turned me lntff Mury before I go. Now, what do youi think of that? And If I've got to be Mary there and Mary here, too, when can I ever be Marie? Oh, I know I suld I'd be willing to be Mury half, and maybe- more than half, the time. But when It comes to reully being Mury out oi turn extra time, that la quite another thing. And I am Mary. Listen : I've learned' to- coote. That's Mary. I've Ihien studying astronomy. That's Mury. I've learned ttt walk quietly, speak softly, laugh not too loudly, nnd be a lady ut ull times. Tina's Mary. And now, to ndU to all this. Mother has had me dress Mike Mriry. Yes, she began two weeks u. Sue came Into my room one morning und said she wanted to look ovur my dresses and things; and I couldl see, by the way she frowned nnd bit her lip and tupped her foot on the iloue, that she wasn't suited. She said: "I think, my dear,, that on Saturday we'll hnve to go In town shopping. Quite u number of those things will not do at nil." And I wns so happy t Visions of new dresses and hats antl shoes rose be fore me, and even the- pints headed silk came into my mind though I didn't really havo much hopes of thnt. Well, wo went shopping on Satur day, but did we get the pink silk? Wo did not. We did get you'd never guess what. We got two new gingham dresses, very plain and homely, nnd n pair of horrid, thick, low shoes. Why, I could have cried 1 E did 'most cry as I exclaimed: "Why Mother, those are Mary' tilings!" "Of course, they're Mnry things," answered Mother, cheerfully. "That's what I meant to buy Mury things, as you call them. Aren't you going to be Mnry Just next week? Of course, you uro! And didn't you tell me Inst year, us soon as you got there, Miss Ander son objected to your clothing and bought now for you? Well, I nm try ing to see that she does not have to do thnt this year." And then she bought me u brown serge suit and a hnt so tlresomely sensible thut even Aunt Jane would love them, I know. And tomorrow I've got to put them on to go In. Do you worfiler thnt I say I urn Mnry ulready? CHAPTER VII i When I Am Neither Ona. ANDERSONVILLE Well, I canio lust night. I had on the brown suit and tho sensible hat, und every turn of tho, wheels all day had been singing: "Mary, Mary, now you're Mnryl" Why, Mother even called mo Mary when sho .Mild no'od by. Sho canio to tho Junction Wth mo just as sho had before, and put mo on tho other tram. "Now, remember, dear, you're to try very hard to. bo n Joy and a comfort to your father Just the little Mary tS0! hewnnts j;ou to be. Itemembef, he hns been very TsUia'To'Iot you stay ' with me so long." I She cried when she kissed me Just ' as she did before; but she didn't tell me this time to be sure and not love Father better thnn I did her. I noticed thnt. But, of course, I didn't say any thing, though I might huve told her easily that I knew nothing could evor mnke mo love him 'better thnn I did her. When wc got to Andersonvllle, and the train rolled Into the station, I stepped down from the cars und looked over to where the carrlugcs were to find John und Aunt Jane. But they weren't there. There wasn't even the carriage there; and I'can remem ber now just how my heart sort of felt sick inside of me when I thought that even Aunt June hud forgotten, and that there wasn't anybody to meet me. There wns 'a beautiful big green uu tomoblle there, and I thought how I wished that had come to meet me; nnd I wus Just wondering what I should do, when all of a sudden some body spoke my name. And who do you think It was? You'd never guess It In a month. It was Father. Yes, Father I Why, 1 could have hugged him, I was so glad. But of courso I didn't, right before all those people. But he was so tall nnd hundsome and splen did, nnd I felt so proud to be walking along the plutform with him and let ting folks see thnt he'd come to meet raol But I couldn't sny unythlng not unythlng, the wuy I wanted to; nnd nil I could do was to stammer out: "Why, Where's Aunt Jane?" And that's Just the thing I didn't want to say ; and I knew It the minute I'd said It. Why, It sounded as If I missed Aunt Jane, and wnnted her In stead of him, when all the tlmo I was so pleased and excited to see him that I could hardly spenk. He Just kind of smiled, und looked queer, nnd said that Aunt Jam. er couldn't come. Then I felt sorry; for I saw, of course, thnt that was why he had come; not because he wnnted to, but because Aunt June couldn't, so he had. to. And I could have cried, all the while he wns fixing It up about my trunk. He turned then and led the way straight over to where the carriages were, and the next minute there was John touching his cap to me; only It was a brand-new John looking too sweet for anything lu a chauffeur's enp nnd uniform. And, whut do yoa think? He wns helping me into that beautiful big green car before I knew it -Why, Fnther. Fnther!" I cried. "Yon don't menn " 1 just couldn't finish ; but he finished for me. "It In oun yea Do you like It?" "JLlke it!" I guess he didn't need to have- me say any more. But I did say more, I Just raved and raved over that car until Father's eye crinkled all! up Id little untie wrinkles, und he soldc "Ifm. glad. 1 hoped you'd Hke It." "L guess-1 do like it 1" I cried. Then I went on to tell him how I thought It was- the- prettiest one 1 over saw, and 'wuy ahead of even Mr. Easter brookfs. "And, pcayr who Is Mr. Eusterhrook?'" asked Father then. "The violinist, perhaps eh?" Now, wasn't it funny he should hnve remembered that there was u violin ist? But, of course, 1 told him no. It wasn't the violinist. It wus another one that took. Mother to ride, the one I told hi m. ubout in the Christina let ter; nnd he was very rich, and had two perfectly bouutlful cars; and I was going oni to tell more how he didn't tuke- Mother now but I didn't get n chance, for Father Interrupted, and suld, "Yes yes, to he sure." And he showed he wasn't Interested, for ull the little- smile wrinkles were gone, and he looked stern und dignified, more llku he used to. And he went on to say thatt as we had almost reached home, he had better explain right uway that Aunt Jane wus no longer living there; thnt Ills cousin from the West, Mrs. Whitney, was keeping house for hhn now. She was a very nice lady, and he hoped I would like her. And I might call her "Cousin Grace." aiiu ueiore i count even uruw nreaiu to nsk any questions, we were home; und a real pretty ludy, with u light blue dress on, wns helping me out of the 'car, and kissing mo us she did so. Now, do you wonder thut I have been rubbing my eyes nnd wondering If I was really I, and If this wus An- dersoavllle? ONE. WEEK LATER It isn't a dream. It's all really, truly true everything: Father com ing to meet me, thu lovely automobile, and tho pretty lady lu ,t!ie light-blue dress, who kissed me. And when I went downstairs tho next morning I found out It wns real, 'speclntly the pretty lady; for she kissed mo again, and said she hoped I'd be happy there And sho told me to amuse myself any way I liked, and said, If I wanted to, I might run over to seo sorao of the girls, but not to make any plana-for the afternoon, for she was going to tako me to ride. Now, what do yeu think of that? Go to seo the girls In the morning, and take a ride an automobile ride 1 In tho afternoon: In Andersonvllle! Why, I couldn't bellevo my ears. Of course, I was wild and crary with de lightbut It was all so different. Why, I began to think almost that I was Ma rle, und not Mary at all. .And It's been Uiat way tho whole week through. I'vo had a beautiful tune. I've been so excited L And Moth er Is excited, too. Of courso, I wrote her and toldMicr nil about It right away. Andstio wrote, right back and wanted to" know everything every thing 1 could tell her; all the little things. And she wus so Interested In Cousin Grace, and wanted to know nil about her; said she never heard of her before, and was sho Father's own cou sin, nnd how old she wns, and wns she pretty, nnd wns Father around the house niorc now, und did I see n lot of hltn? Sho thought from something I snld that I did. I've just been writing her ugaln, and I could tell her more now, of course, thnn I could In thnt first letter. I've been here u whole week, nnd, of course, I know more nbout things, nnd have done more. I told her thnt Cousin Grace wasn't realty Father's cousin nt nil, so It And She Is Pretty, and Everybody Loves Her. wasn't any wonder she hadn't ever henrd of her. She was the wife of Father's third cousin who went to South America six yenrs ago and caught the fever und died there. So this Mrs. Wljltney Isn't really any rela tion of his at nir. But he'd always known her. oven before she married his cousin ; nntl so, when her husband died, nnd she didn't hnve nny home, he asked her to come here. I don't know why Aunt Jane went away, but she's been' gone 'most four months now, they say here. Nellie totd me. Nellie Is the maid 1 mean hired girl here now. (I will keep for getting that I'm Mary now and roust use the Mnry words here.V II totd Mother tbatt she (Cousin Grave) wns quite old. but not so old as Atmt Jane. And slw Is pretty, and everybody loves her. I think even Father Hkcs to havo her around better tham he did his own sister Jane, for he sometimes stays around- quite a lot now after meals, ami ln the evening, I menu;. And Hint's what) I told Moth er. Of! course, he still likes his stars the best) of anything, but not quite as well as-be used to, maybe not td give all his- time to them. I forgot to say that Father Is going to let me go back to school again this year ahead of his time, jusb as he did last year. So you see, really Fm here only a little bit of n while, as It is flow, and) It's no wonder I keep, forget ting I an Mnry. ONE WEEK LATER Things- are awfully funny hero this time. I wonder If It's nil Cousin Grace thnt makes it so. Anyhow, she's Just as different as different can bo from Aunt Jane. And things are-different, everywhere. Why, I forget half the tlmo- that I'm Mary. Honestly, I do. I try to be. Mary. L try to move quietly, speak gently, nnd laugh softly, Just as Moth er told me to. But before L know it I'm acting natural ugaln just like Mnrle, you know. And I believe It Is Cousin Grace. She never looks nt you In Aunt Jane's I'm-amazed-at-you way. And she laughs herself m lot, and sings nnd plays, too renl pretty lively things; not just hymn tunes. And the house Is differ ent. Thero nro four geraniums In the dining room window, and the parlor Is open every day. The wax flowers are there, but the hair wreath and tho coffin plate nro gono. Cousin Grace doesn't dress like Aunt Jane, either. She wears pretty white and blue dresses, und her hnlr Is curly and fluffy. I think ull thlB Is why I keep for getting to bo Mnry. But, of course, I understand that Father expects me to be Mary, and so I try to remember. TWO WEEKS LATER I understand It all now everything: why the house Is different, and Fa ther, nnd everything. And it Is Cousin Grace, and it Is a love story. Father Is In lovo with her. Now I guess I shall have something for tills bookl It seems funny now that I didn't think of It at first. But I didn't not until I heard Nellie and her beau talk Ing about f. Nellie said Sho wasn't the only one In the house that was going to get married. And when, ho asked her what sho meant,' she said it was Dr. Anderson and Mrs. "Whitney. That anybody oould see It that wasn't as blind as a bat. My, but wasn't I excited? I Just guesss I was. And, of course, I saw that I had been blind as a bat. But I began to open my eyes after that, and watch not disagreeably, you know, but ,Just gjad and interested. nnd on nccotint df tts bcc!:. And I saw: That Father stayed In the house a lot more than he used to. Thnt ho smiled more. Thnt he actually asked Cousin Grace and me to piny for him several times. That, he went with us to tho Sunday school picnic. (I never saw Father at a picnic before, and I don't believe be ever saw himself at one.) That oh, I don't know, but a whole lot of little things that I can't remem ber; but they were all unmistakable, very unmistakable. And I wondered, when I "saw It nil, that I had been as blind as a but before. When I wrote Mother I told her all nbout It the signs and symptoms, I menu, and how different nnd thawed out Fnther was; and I nsked If she didn't think It was so, too. But sho didn't unswer that pnrt. She didn't write much, auyway. It was an aw fully snippy letter; but she said Bhe had a headache and didn't feel at all well. So Unit was the rea son, probably, why she didn't say more about Father's love nffalr, I meuu. She only said sho was glad, she was sure, If Father had found an estimable woman to make a home for him, and sho hoped they'd be happy. Then she went on talking nbout some thing else. And she didn't write much more, anyway, about anything. AUGUST Well, of ull the topsy-turvy worlds, this Is the topsy-turvlest, I am sure. What do they want me to do, and which do they want mo to be? Oh, I wish I was Just a plain Suslo or Bes sie, and not a cross-current and a con tradiction, with a father thnt wants mo to be one thing and a mother Unit wants me to be another I It waa bad enough before, when Father wanted me to bo Mary, nnd Mother wanted me to be Marie. But now Well, to begin at the beginning. It's nil over the love story, I mean, and I know now why It's been so hard for me to remember to bo Mary and why everything Is different, and all. They don't wunt me to be Mary. They want me to be Marie. And now I don't know what to think. If Mother's going to want ma to be Mary, and Father's going to want me to be Marie, how urn I going to know what anybody wants, ever? Besides, It was getting to be such a beautiful love story Father nnd Cou sin Grace. And now But let me tell yon what happened. It was last night. We were on U19 piazza. Father, Cousin Grnce, and L She got up nnd went Into the house for something Cousin Grace. I mean and all of n sudden-1 determined to tell, Father how glad I was, nbout hlm and Cousin Grnce: nnd how I hoped' It would last having him ont there with us, and all that. And I told him. I don't remember 'that I said exact ly. Bnt I hadn't anywhere near said what I wanted to when he did stop me. Why, he almost jumped out of his chair. "Mnryr he gasped. "What In the world are yon talking about?" "Why, Father, I wns telling yoa," I explained. And I tried to be so cool and calm that It would make him calm and cool, too. (But it didn't calm him or cool him one bit.) It's nbout when yon're married and " "Married!" he Interrupted again. (They never let me Interrupt like that!) "To Cousin Graced yes. But Father, you you are going to marry Cousin Grace, aren't you?" I cried and I did Inost cry, for I saw by his face that he was not. "That Is not my present Intention," he said. His lips came together hard, and he looked over his shoulder to see tf Cousin Grace was coming back. "Bnt yon're going to some time," I. begged him. "I do not expect to." I fell back In my chair, and I know I looked grieved nnd hurt and disap pointed, as I almost sobbed: "Oh, Father, nnd when I thought you were going to!" "There, there, child I He spoke, stern nnd almost cross now. "This ab surd nonsensical Idea has gone quite far enough. Let us think no moro about It." "It Isn't absurd nnd nonsenslcall" I cried. And I could hardly say the words, I was choking up so. "Every body said you were going to, nnd I wrote -Mother so; nnd " "You wrote that to your mother?" ne did Jump from his chair this time. "Yes; and she wns glad." "Oh, sho was I" He sat down sort of limp-like nnd queer. "Yes. Sho said she was glad you'd found an estimable woman to make a homo for you." "Oh, sho did." ne said this, too, In that queer, funny, quiet kind of wny. "Yes;" I spoke, decided and firm. I'd begun to think, all of a sudden, that maybe he didn't nppreclnto Mother as much as she did hlm; and I deter mined right then and there to mako him, If I could. When I remember nil the lovely things she'd snld about him "Father," I began; und I spoke this time, even more decided nnd firm. "I don't believe you appreciate Mother." "Eh, What?" He made me jump this time, ho turned nround with such a Jerk-, and spoke so sharply. But In spite of the Jump I still held on to my subjoct, firm nnd decided. TO BE CONTINUED. :o: NMsb Lorlno Hnrvoy returned to her homo Jn Cheyenne after visiting her cousin Miss Pearl MConnell for sev eral days. V