Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1902-10-23
The UndOing of
Mary Lizzie.
OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES
By Rebecca M. Sampson.
4; 4 & x 9es e III Il X 4: Il 3 q q az

4 GREAT event had befallen Mary
IA Lizzie. One of her poems had been
published. 4! neighbours baby had
died suddenly, and Mary Lizzie in a
spasm of sympathy had been moved
to write a poem that was published in
the local paper, under the title I'm
Memoriam."
MARY Lizzie! Don't you touch them
dishes!'' cried her mother, the morn
ing after the poem had appeared,
when Mary Lizzie, in working apron
and sleeves rolled up above her ell
bows, started as usual, to clear up.
"You let them dishes alone!" O n
tinued the mother commandingly.
mo one in town shan't ever get the
chance to say, after what's happened,
that | kept you grubbing at house
work instead of letting you exercise
your talents. You go up to your
room this minute and set right to
work to make poultry"
"But, mai" Mary Lizzie protested,
with a wistful glance toward the
stack of unwashed breakfast dishes,
'how ever are you going to manage
without me to help, and with the
baby teething??"
Il don't know and | don't care!'
snapped Mrs. Walters, whose loud
voice and excitable manner gave her
a reputation for temper she was far
from possessing. II only know that
I'm not going to be the one to blight
your prospects as a poutry-writer.
Now that you've got yourself into
print you'll have the editors all over
the country running after you to con-
tribute. You amt got no right to
throw away such chances. Has she,
pa?"
This appeal was addressed to her
mild farmer-husband, who had come
in for lard to mix with a horse lini-
ment.
"You oughtn't to throw away
chances, Mary Lizzie" the father
said, in a weary voice, as he hurried
ly tiptoed out of the kitchen.
This opinion from her father set
tied the question for Mary Lizzie
She pulled down her sleeves, took of
her gingham apron and went meeklA
upstairs.
There was no dessert for dinner
that day, no pie for supper either;
and at breakfast next morning, til
usual standby of hot cakes was miss
ing.
On the fourth day of this sort o.
thing, the long-suffering father ven
tured a p~laintive: "Ain't we nevel
going to have hot cakes?"
sd like to know what time you
think I've got to make sucl
things!" fired up the excitabl'
mother.
/ thought Mary Lizzie did TIN
baking" said the father.
"Do you think I'd allow Mary Lizzi'
to get herself all het up first thing
in the morning, now that's she's go
her poutry-writing to do?" asked tn
mother, with offended emphasis.
II wish Mary Lizzie would qui
writing that fool stuff" the fathe
retorted with unusual spirit.
Spa! What a dreadful thing t.
say! You don't deserve to have
child with Mary L~izzie's talents!
easped the astonished and indignan
mother, in tones that speedily sen
the father on business to the barr
Poor Mary Lizzie! Day after day sh
sat in that stuffy little room an
gnawed good pencils to shreds an
spoiled good paper with stuff whic
even she, unhappy child, knew to b
only nonsence.
'It's no use ma! | can't write!
wish you'd let me go back to house
n keeping!" she entreated her mothel
Il after a fortnight Of the infection.
Il t"You ought to be ashamed Of YOU
self, to talk of giving up your poutr.
# writing!'' retorted the obdurat
3&#s mother, in a heat of Indignation.
M Mary Lizzie crept back to the suff'
sRN eating attic room. Il hate poetry
I hate writing!" she cried, fingin
1M pencil and paper away in a passio
s Of resentful tears. II wasn't Dor
to be anything but a housekeeper. |
have never thought OF writing poeti
if I hadn't felt 50 sorry about tn;
dear little baby dying. That's how
came to write In Memoriam. don
believe / could do it again if | trit
for a lifetime. / don't want
either. I'd rather be downstai
this minute baking pies for fath