The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, 1914-09-10

It to her husband.
Three months of the only real hap
piness she had ever known, and her
stronger self said this must be the
end. 1t would be hard to leave them
all, and the white, clean little house;
but the futility Of staying had come
to her quite suddenly that morning.
Lila-ten. dark eyed, and reserved
had prefaced request with moth
er" To Mrs. Carson mamma" had
somehow always seemed a sweeter,
more intimate term
Don't you think the word mother
a bit formal, dear?" she had ventured,
with fass-beating heart.
Lila locked up quickly.
I'll call you Mrs. Carson, then"
she announced briefly.
It's 10 use-no use!" a voice In
her mind kept crying. "They may
even cone to dislike YOU"
There were two others-Fred. sew
en-, and Alice, the baby.
She kissed the baby. but shyness
withheld her from caressing the two
impregnable little strangers who very
plainly did not wish to be caressed.
All her patient life she had longed
for domesticity and little ones, but for
years perverse necessity had kept her
in the schoolhouse of middle West
town.
Some time after the sisters we'd
ding she met Jim Carson, a widower,
and after brief but sincere wooing
he brought her East as his bride-a
girl no longer, but full Of the inno-
cence and illusions of youth.
The train she must take left at two.
She placed the note in the center OF
the round table, and entered the bed
room-her bedroom and Jim's.
Carefully she took her clothes from
the closet and piled them on the bed.
They were new, neat things that were
her trousseau.
In opening the top bureau drawer,
8 small package and sealed envelope
met her gaze. Both were addressed
In very round, precise letters to Mrs.
Margaret Carson"
The writing was vaguely familiar.
She tore open the letter first. 1t read:
Dear Mrs Carson:
! take my pen in hand to tell you that
I am going to run away today. II my
brother, Frederick Carson, VIII go, ! VIII
take him. too. You can keep the paoy
because you love her, ! know you do, be-
cause you kiss her and call her my little
darling Here is your berthday presunt.
sowed on II every day after school so
I could get 1t done by May l2tn Qweifth).
but II Is not done yet II you will kindly
Embroidery the big green leef 1t will be
Done l an sorry you did not like for me
Respectfully,
Lila Carson.
p. 81 know you won't care because
you don't love me. You never kissed me
good night in your life.
'Mrs. Margaret Carson" drew long
breath, then almost reverently united
the package.
A large cushion-top, embroidered In
bright red and green, unrolled to view.
There must have been hundreds and
hundreds Of the crude little stitches,
and the goods had puckered woefully;
but to the recipient it was a glorious
thing.
And then, because she was woman,
she cried.
Soon small feet came pattering
through the house, and in a minute
Fred stood in the doorway.
kin l have a doughnut?" he asked.
Md cicfnr
come home with you?" she queried
eagerly.
"Yes'm. She's out in the wood
shed. She wants me to run away
with her, but / won't" said Fred vir-
tuously. Don't tell her l told"
In the woodshed she found her hid
ing behind a box A bit Of the blue
checked dress had betrayed her. ST.
lently the little mother raised and
folded her in her Grms.
She kissed the flushed face several
times.
my dear, dear little girl, you will
not run away from mother now. Won't
you believe l love you?" The tone
carried conviction.
Lila glanced up shyly.
'T thought sure you didn't. And
then you said you-you thought was
too familiar, or something, because 1
called you mother"
The mother gave a wabbly little
laugh.
'J said formal, dear; but that only
meant would rather be called mann
ma. l like it better. Now I am going
to give my babies their lunch" she
paused, "after ! have torn up very
fool.sh letter wrote today"