The Washington herald., 1917-05-24

You know the problems OF fourteen
are sometimes quite as heart-break-
ing and puzzling as those of forty. l!
think they are almost more so; in
fact. because at forty I should think
person would have so much-well,
precedent 1 guess you would call it
to fall back on. But at fourteen there
just doesn't seem any way out. So Il
sympathize more with fourteen, either
the girl or the boy who is just begin
ming to look up into the face of life's
great silent Sphynx and ask it ques-
tions.
A letter came yesterday that was so
natural and real felt as II l knew the
girl and understood just exactly how
: she felt She wrote:
DO you think money ought to make
any difference with folks in families?
My aunt married a man with lots OF
money. but 1 don't mind it, because
he's quite nice, even. II he is rich
And I like to go and visit them. They
live in the country at lovely place
The house and garage and walls are
all built out of the reddlsh-gray field
stone you find out there. and there is
ivy growing all over it and woodbine
1t looks like a castle. l have got two
cousins younger than I am, but my
father and mother don't like to have
me go there to visit because we
haven't a lot of money, and We live in
a fat Mother says We should not ac-
cept hospitality we can't return, even
from relatives I think it's horrid. It's
lust as il they had the measles and
couldn't go, and they can't help 1t any
more than they could measles. either.
They keep asking me and asking me, and
want to 60"
am sure I would let her go, wouldn't
you? / have found lOut that some OF
the very lonesomcst people in the world
are those who have money and nothing
else When we were poor I used TO
look at people who could ride in their
own cars and live at beautiful hotels,
and wish with all my heart that
could he one of them. Haven't you
seen people coming out Of the opera
all in evening dress. waiting for the
numbers OF their cars to be called, and
envied them with all your heart? l
used to, 1 know. Or haven't you walked
along the street when it was awfully
cold and you'd been hunting work
through a lot of theatrical agencies ana
then you pass a lovely window like
Sherry's on Broadway. with crinkly SILK
curtains and lace ones beyond, and rows
of winter window green's. and still be-
yond these vague glmpses of little ta-
bles and shaded lights and good things
to eat! Why, it makes you raNenous
and cross and indignant at life, and
you think the people who can eat IN
there must be so happy.
Well. l have found out one thing
since good luck came to us. The blue
bird of happines dces't like gold cages
one bit. I have found more people who
were miserable and discontented among
those who, I thought had everything,
than I ever did in the dear OLD crowd
Of happy-go-lucky actors and actresses
in the old days. Even If one of them
only had a dollar, he would give half
and more to a friend who needed 1t
more than he did One of the men in
the company out here was telling about
Dan DAILY the other day. how he would
hold up his arms when friend needed
loan and say comfortably,
Leave me carfare, old man."
But it seems as II most people imagine
that money is a thorny hedge separating
one class from another. And it isn't at
ALL We ought to be sorry for the aunts
and their families and do all we can to
make them happy, even if they are rich.
Their money is no reason why we should
cut them off our visiting lists. If they
did have the measles. we'd send them
little remembrances and do all we could
for them. Why not treat them lovingly
and overlook their money? The lone
soonest woman ever knew had S20OO0,0O0
left her by her father and husband. She
wrote to me when I was in New York
and saw her several times. She had
large suite at one of the best hotels,
three maids, a secretary, major domo,
who seemed to manage everything from
her dogs to her estates; a French chef,
who prepared her meals specially, and
goodness knows what all. And she used
to tell me she was so lonely she didn't