The Washington herald., 1914-07-25
DAILY SHORT STORY.
THE PASSING OF MORA.
ny MARY II. LA RUE.
CCopyrisht. lsiD

NOpyT1Ent, lslt.l
Moira brought my second cup Of coffee
| steaming hot from the percolator. l could
! tell by her preoccupied manner as she
handed me the cream pitcher there was
something on her mind.
Miss Van Dusen' she inquired, how
much would furniture cost? Not for the
likes of you, but for the likes Of me?'
I dropped the sugar tongs in conster-
nation. "Moira," demanded in a griev-
ed tone, ''it can't be that you're think
ing OF getting married." She had been
taking care OF my studio apartment and
incidentally myself for five years: l had
come to look upon her as a permanent
fixture in my small household. l am
considered a bit crochety, believe, but
she and got along very well indeed.
Indeed and l am. He's been after me
to set the day this long time. Honest,
/ hate to leave you. nam. 1t seems
like leaving home all over again" She
twisted her apron string in the embar-
rassed manner girls OF her class as
sumo when they talk of contemplated
matrimony. IT'S to be Cheusd'y week"
rs It that young man who comes here
once a month to see you?" Visions arose
OF an awkward. lanky fellow with an
atrocious plaid necktie. who sometimes
spent an evening in my kitchen.
From Philadelphy yes ma'am. Danl
as ever wore shoe leather He's a steady
fellow and makes four dollars day
plumbing. all the year round"
well, Moira, l should be unwilling to
let you go for any other reason except
marriage. I hope you'll be very happy"
And 1. Eustacia Van Dusen. respectable
middle-aged spinster and successful
painter Of miniatures, regarded my
humble handmaiden with something like
hPr child
these are a woman's life. We must
take our happiness vicariously. we SPIN
Sters, as we take our romance.
MORA, I'll find lots OF pretty things
to help out the trousseau." We were the
same height. she and 1, though there
the resemblance ended. as she was
some twenty years younger than l, with
the good looks / never had in my best
days. Needless to say. my last years
clothes invariably looked better on her
than they had looked in all their pristine
freshness on me.
Moira's blue eyes grew a trifle misty.
You were always good to me- Miss Van
Dusen. Ate that other egg. now do, it'll
do ye good" she added in the domineer-
ing manner she sometimes assumed to-
ward me. Later, could hear her sing
ing about her work, as l sat over my
painting. But her happiness was des-
tlned TO De SnortuVed.
The next morning 1t was n care-worn
ghost, with eyes swollen with weeping.
who awakened me at s. She held a
black-bordered letter with foreign
stamp. MY poor mother Is gone-gone-
1 shall never see her between sobs.
Later, when her grief had subsided. she
made a statement that puzzled me. Il
cannot be married now"
Why not. MORA, dear?'' I asked.
II must take her place in the old
home. I am the oldest. There are seven
younger than me. I must do for them
and father. Miss Van Dusen, l must
take the first vessel that sails for
Queenstown. have written to tell
Daniel It's all over between u.s."
MORN. don't act hastily. Are you
sure Il In your duty to sacrifice your
own future TO make a home for your
brothers and sisters? VIII they appre-
ciate your unselfishness7 Just think!
II must be AZ least ten years before the
younger ones viii be old enough 20 care
Tor themselves. ny that time your
youth viii Be gone. one by one they viii
leave you for homes Of their own. There
WI be no future 20 anticipate hut a
lonely. unloved old age And what about
NJ. oHheeS Haa ne no right 10 he con-
llderedf Take time 10 think u over my
q have thought SbOu, Gn you ssl