The Kansas City sun. (Kansas City, Mo.) 1908-1924, 1914-08-22
WHY l LEFT HOME

LGl h64 daughter to live at home.
BA In my ase it was not.
E % My mother was a sweet
faced, s~oft-spoken woman.
One of my earliest ~recollec-
lions is of watching her making my
dainty clothes, for she was deft with
her fingers.
fancy l had a happy childhood. as
childhoods go. There is a popular
fiction that the happiest time Of ones
life is when one is so young that n
is absolutely under the control of
ones governors, teachers, pastors
and masters" Perhaps it is, but as a
small girl l longed often to have my
W way. l told my father this nee
when 1 was but ten years Of age. He
smiled whimsically and patted my
head.
"Ah, little girl" he expostulated,
chow foolish you are! Here is your
dad wishing that he need never decide
what is right and what is wrong for
himself, but that there was some one
in whom he had perfect confidence
WHO WOulu say W Hill sOu hob w
this, or you must not do that"
I was fond of novel-reading, but
read only such books as my parents
approved. I have wondered often
since how it happened that was in
such complete subsection to my father
and mother. I know that there were
at school girls who read what they
pleased, but when | left home my
mother had asked me to peruse only
such books as she, my father, or the
school principal recommended. l pro
missed and kept the promise. My room
mate was a singularly sweet, pure
minded girl, and l cared for no other
intimates. although l was on pleas
ant terms with many of the other
scholars. But l think all of them
thought me too prim and particular tc
be much fun. So when l returned tC
my home at the end of my schoo
career my fastidious mother and my
anxious father found me as childlike
and unsophisticated as when they had
sent me from them. They had decid'
ed that I was not to go to college. ]
knew there had been a little discus
sion about this matter, but my ia
Their had very strong convictions along
these lines. He wanted his daughter
to be "all womanly," and had a con
tempt. founded more upon prejudice
than upon knowledge, of the typical
college While m mothers
viows did not coincide in every par
ticular with his, she was SO anxious to
keep ne with her that she readily &C.
copied his decision against college.
She needed me, she said. She had
been 80 lonely" since 1 left and want.
ed me for her very own friend anC
companion now and always"
She told me this the night after Ire.
turned to the little home and the pref.
ty room that had been done over
for me.
80 many of the girls I know are
going to do things of some kind" ]
informed her. Mother, dear, is there
any special line of work you want me
to take up? Do you want me to have
some way of earning my living?"
mol" she said impulsively. What
I want is to have you to myself as
long as 1 live, at least" she added
until you marry. And perhaps YOU
may not do that. Even then Iwoult
want you to live near me. l have sac
Tificed myself, and my own wishes, TO
the sake of having you educated, anC
! feel that I have the right to enjoy
you now"
But" I hesitated as I asked the
question. suppose that the time
should come when l had to supper
myself-what could I do them"
ut won't come, l hope" she in
sisted. And if it did-why, vol
write a beautiful hand. You "a b.
a secretary-or something"
Several years later l remembers,
that speech.
The following evening my fathe
and / had a long talk as we sat to
gether on the veranda. Mother hal
a headache and had gone to her room
early, insisting, however, that l he'll
her undress and see her comfortabl.
in bed before joining my father wher,
he sat alone, smoking.
What have you been doing?" h,
asked as l came out softly upon tn,
veranda after leaving my mother in
peaceful sleep, soothed thereto by m!
gentle stroking of her aching head
When | told him he drew me down Il
a chair beside him.
Poor little girl" he said banter
ingly, you are already getting broker
into work, aren't your
Work." l exclaimed, almost In
dignantly. II don't call 1t work t
make poor, dear mother comfortabl
when she is ILL.,"
1T may get monotonous after
while" he remarked dryly. And the
he sighed. l asked no questions, bu
again In my heart was the old f;
millar ache for him and for my mothe
and the old puzzling question as t
which ! should sympathize with.
Soon our talk drifted to my schoc
days, and. tentatively, l said to hir
just what l had said to my mothe
the evening before about my acquirin
some way Of earning a living. Wha
did he think of it?
He smoked for several minutes b
Nightmare Stories.