The Kansas City sun. (Kansas City, Mo.) 1908-1924, 1914-08-22

know that l will not leave you IL you
are lonely and suffering. l will wait
for my dinner until you feel better"
But she shook her head. mo, child,
go down. 1t will only make 1t harder
for me II you don't. But do not send
me up anything to eat until you have
finished. Then bring 1t up to me your
self. And IL your father goes out to-
night will you mind sitting UP here
with me? 1 shall be lonely"
81 will come up whether he goes out
or not" l said.
I had told my mother that I had
been invited to spend the evening with
Mary Lane, a girl friend living near
us, but she had evidently forgotten
the fact. l would not remind her of
it.
Nevertheless, being young, l was
disappointed. l had anticipated a jolly
evening, for half a dozen girls and
young men had been asked to Mary's
house, and her parents always made
her friends welcome. / did not enter
tain, for my mother was made nervous
By the thought of company, and my
father, being a mere man, did not
appreciate how much girls like good
timeMA in their own homes. But he
did NAnt me to have simple pleasures
and, Strangely enough, recollected just
as we finished dinner that l had said
something about some affair for to-
night" | fastened to state that un-
less mother was better l would not
leave her. l tried to speak as If it
made no difference, but he must have
fancied a wistful note in my voice, for
he said quickly:
you must go, Elizabeth. I shall be
at home all the evening. and will lis
ten for our mother" He glanced al
his watch. What time are you due al
Mrs. Lane's?"
AT half-past eight"
We'll, run away and dress at once"
he commanded.
But mothers dinner" l began.
"Norah will attend to that" he said
she doesn't want Norah to take il
up, daddy" I expostulated. Il told
her l would do it,"
And l tell you you will not" he
said firmly. 1T is time this nonsense
stopped"
/ looked at him, startled.
Il mean" he explained, that when
a servant and a husband are on hand
to fetch and carry there is no need
of you sacrificing yourself both day
and night. And while l am here you
shall not do it. l will carry your
mothers dinner to her"
Although the evening at Mary
Lanes was pleasant, the memory OF
what had gone before 1t lurked in the
depths of my consciousness all the
while. My father came for me at the
time appointed to take me home
When l inquired how my mother was
he replied briefly that she was asleep,
and l asked no more questions. But
as he kissed me good night at the
door of my room he drew me to him
in a sudden embrace.
Dear little girl" he said, "but fol
you 1 should be very lonely!"
The words were those used by my
mother that afternoon. They repeated
themselves to me until l fell asleep.
I went out little that year and the
next. 1 found that my mother really
needed me; at least, that she wa
cheerful when l remained with her
but that, when l had been out of thu
house for a few hours, she was sure tt
be depressed, and that her depression
almost invariably eliminated in a sicl
headache. But l also learned tina
my father had little patience with thiI
depression, and, to keep the peace,
pretended to him that society boreC
me, and that | did not care for teas
receptions, and the like.
Sometimes when my mother woult
speak s%lightingly of my father l triet
to call her attention to his many goot
characteristics. but l was always me
by a frigid silence or the remark
You are but a girl. How shout,
you know what men are?"
Thus matters stood for eighteen
months after my graduation. On m.
second Christmas as a home-daughte
there occurred a scene which mad
upon my mind and feelings a lasting
impression. My father had learne,
from Mary Lane that she was agail
planning for an evening of merrimen
at her home, and he insisted on m.
attending the festivities. This he dil
before Christmas, adding that as h
had an engagement himself that nigh
he would stop and bring me home oil
his return. My mother compresse,
her lips, but said nothing. l had al
intuition that she was awaiting dc
velopments, and l felt vaguely uncon
Portable. Then the matter passe
from my mind, until at supper O.
Christmas evening she said to m
father, as If to test him:
Have you a very important Ell
gagement tonight?'
He started slightly. only a ca
l am going to make" he said.
Upon whom" she asked.
He met her gaze as directly as sh
met his. "On Mrs. birmingham" b
answered.
II al sure of that" she a~sserte
coldly.
Then why did you ask?" quire
my father, with a sarcastic smile.
Because / could hardly believ
the bridge table or club meetings o
the dance class, and who are. in fact
equal to almost any effort but appear