Bisbee daily review., 1911-04-08
A MatrOn'S
 Confession
She Tells How She Gave Up Her
 Doll For a Lover
By EVELYN D. WILCOX
Copyright by American Press Asso-
 ciation. 1911.

| H~~~~O~~~~>-~~@~ i Father has never done a days work 1 in his life. l have often heard him say i that to go to q store or an office every Gay and attend to details such as buy i Ing and selling and shipping and fnan- ciering and such matters that have no importance except for the time being. | dying as fast as they are born, like cer- 1 tain insects, would soon wear him out But tO sit in a library and read i'm mortal works such as the Greek poets and the Latin prose writers father l reads them in the original Greek and
 Latin-that is way of spending ones time fitted not for commercial slaves. but intellectual gentlemen
 When I was q child we lived my parents live there yet-in the country
 not far from great city. Father had
 inherited some property from his an- cestors that had been handed down through several generations. and our
 income. though small. was sufficient for our wants. So father was at lib- erty to spend his time in way that he
 considered profitable I sometimes overheard people sneering at him for living the life of a drone, as they ex- lpressed it, but since I have grown old it seems to me that even the real
 drones in colony of bees must have
 their place in natures workshop or
 they would not be there.
 Another singular thing about Dame Nature is that. while she requires years to transform boy into man. she will
 turn q girl into a woman in a twin king. At any rate it was so with me.
 When I was thirteen i was sitting one
 morning on the porch at home. my doll
 being in a chair beside me. Seeing a
 young fellOw-he appeared to be about
 seventeen-com into the grounds, l ] seized the combination of china, cot
 ton and sawdust and flung it in an
 open window behind me. There were
 some books on a table near by. and,
 taking up one of them, pulling down
 the short skirt of my dress at the same
 time so that it would cover my knees,
 l pretended to read.
 The young fellow came along by the winding walk under the great trees they had recently put forth that sea , sons leayes-and approached the ] porch. Though my gaze was bent on 3 my book, l saw not the printed P words, but the advancing youth. l . have a miniature portrait made of , him at that time. and many who have
 seen it have taken it for an ideal crea
 ton. He was tall for his years, and
 his beautifully shaped head was set
 on as beautiful neck, his collar be- ing of the open sort, which showed
 the throat to advantage. His face was a perfect oval, his eyes large and lus- , trous, his hair falling about his tenn ples in disordered waves.
 , l have spoken from experience in
 saying that Dame Nature will turn a . girl into a woman in q twinkling. My F own transformation did not occupy s more than q minute Within that pe- riod Hcaugbt sight of the youth, flung f away my doll and was in love. z The newcomer paid no more sttep-
 ton to ne than if l had been made,
 like my doll, of sawdust. l was stung
 to the quick that he did not look al ne He rang the bell. asked for ia
 ther and was shown into the house. i went upstairs and. Stationing myself
 beside a window overlooking the walk ! | by which he must pass out of the ! place, waited for him to do so. When a he departed I was watching him from s behind curtains. He walked with a D ! satisfied step, as though he had come
 for a purpose and had accomplished fl s wished to go right down tO the Ii ] brary and learn all about the visitor D from father, but feared to show aE Q undue interest in him. I tried hard [ to wait long while, but five minutes
 was all my impatience would allow i Going into the library, I pretended tC D hunt for q book. at the same time
 asking as if incidentally:
 l. ''Who was your visitor. papaT' e Julian Trowbridge"
 What did he come fOrT'
 e To ask me to coach him for his col C lege examination. He has applied -fo 2 admission in June"
 !; Are you going to coach himF
 "Yes. I couldn't very well refuse
 He's the son of my old friend Trow i, bridge, who was in college with me Trowbridge has devoted himself t' IT. ignoble pursC;ts and got rich pulle' ' him through his graduating examina i, l tons"
 5. "Oh, my goodness gracious"' l said C 2 myself. putting my hand to my hear ir to still its wild beating. Then asked ,t els he coming here for instructionT m ''Yes, every morning at IL"
 d And so should see this young go If whom I had suddenly set up fin IL -e heart every day till June If fathe
 had known the tumnlt within me D
 doubtless would have ordered me [
 the nursery every morning before hi
 pupils coming Father had publish
 ed a translation of Ovid's Art c ie Love" with copious notes, but he di sr not know enough about love itself { of suspect that his own daughter la Is already been pierced by one of CI
 l bids arrows The natural he stu'
 led in his library from the ancienti
 the artificial came to him the momeI 'u he left it. His daughter must go y college, and that meant absence (
 love for seven or eight years to com