Sharp County record., 1885-05-14
-. ,.N9i,RGERY DAw.
Whv Cd
'Vhys-d
PED and f9he Sold Her Bed and Lay
-dlana on IN Straw

y
better read no fur,h You will say
this is not much of story, which is
true. You will say it lacks incident
which is also true And if you are Of
that most straitest sect of critics, who
speak out their whole minds, you will
at one stage of it say that she who tells
it is a superstitious old idot-of which
one-third is true. l am old, but not
superstitious, and, thank Providence,
not an idiot. My name is Margery
Daw, Truly and honestly, Margery
Daw. And sorry am 1 to think that it
must have been some disreputable an
cestress of mine who inspired that
nursery rhyme:
"See, Saw! Margery Daw
Sold her bed and lay on straw"
However, as l have not inherited her
Ndisregard of cleanliness and comfort,
q.nd ay the zsorg has pleased many 4
leftfaUlo1 OF children, and, moreover,
as our race, so far as known, has never
done anything else for the public good,
why. perhaps, we ought to be proud of
that other Margery Daw, after all.
When | was a child my name was
burden to me, because other children,
whose names were unknown in song or
story-But, dear me! What does any
one care for what annoyed me fifty
years agoP
l am a spinster (who spins not,
unless it be the thread of this narrative),
and, although old enough to have more
sense, it gives me satisfaction to say that
am a spinster from choice.
Moreover, am wealthy spinster,
and live in the old mansion in which l
was born, surrounded by the massive
furniture which was in it long before
my tine.
Eighteen years ago, my only brother
and his wife died, leaving to me their
little girl, who, against my wishes, had
been named for me, Margery.
More than three years ago, at Broad
Harbor, we met an artist, Paul Glenn,
by name. He was an artist and he was
poor; and from wlat | saw of his paint
ing, he was poor artist. And-yes,
/ will tell the truth-he was the son of
a man who, in my girlhood-No! That
secret is mine alone. l doubt if l shall
be made to tell it on the last day even.
Only when Guy Glenn's boy asked me
for Margery said:No not while l lived.
After we returned home, they must
have met frequently, and on the morn
ing of February fourteenth, Margery
came and put her arms around me and
kissed me. Her lashes were wet with
tears when she laid her face against
mine, and sa she was going out. That
morning my little Margery whose baby
smiles had cheered my broken heart,
passed out of my life, leaving me as she
found me, childless and alone. In the
evening a messenger left a note from
her. She had gone out to be married to
Paul Glenn.
NV heart was ever one to know its own
bitterness, but to hide it from others.
So Margery room was shut up, as she
left it, and, as l said, she passed out of
my life.
| have not been well for some months,
and have not strength enough to 60 up
and down stairs often.
l have always used my fathers sec
retary, which stands where he left it in
the library. Feeling the need of desk
in my own room, and wishing it to cor
respond with the other furniture, / drove
TO SIghfOr and bought an oId-IasnlOned
little writing-table, which was placed
near my bedside.
| was awakened that night by Curl
Gus scratching sound in tbs table.
Thinking that stray mouse>had taken
refuge there, l, who had lived in an old
house long enough to be philosophical
about such visitors, soon teu asleep
again. ],
The next day l carefully busted my !