The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1918-08-17
EVENING STORY
"a Letter to Mr.. Somebody .
BY LOUISE OLIVER.

muSketry had ceased for the time and
all was quiet along the line. Three of
the men in his platoon had been
| wounded and taken back to the first
aid stations behind the lines. But he
hadn't a scratch.
Beside him, Arouchhng In a variety
OF attitudes. were five of the boys
playing cards. Someone had produced
| a dog-eared, muddy pack, and now they
were having round of jack pots. The
entire crowd had an aggregate of less
than a dollar, an told.
| Come on in, Pearson, the betting's
fine" called Dorgan. ..Sky's the limit"
| But Philip shook his head. 1T hurts
my finer feelings to- see my fellow be-
ings risking their Immortal souls. I
can't be a party to the outrage. Be-
sides. I'm broke"
Poor Phil" Dorgan drew three
| who's he got to be lonely fort"
Kearney. new to the company. didn't
know Pills history.
| Nobody. That's the trouble We
cusses here think we're killed because
we can't see our folks. But did you
ever think what it meant not to have
any folks to get homesick for? That's
PhN's trouble. He Just naturally hasn't
| got anybody. That's what he's think
ing this minute. I'll bet a jitney. New
er gets any mail-never hears from
duyOuS. by 1tOISes neTSt COIlcS
Bandy now with letters. Hurrah! The
mails in. Jimmy! All those for me.
Chaplain? Well, this is my day"
Philip sat stolidIy on the fire step
without moving. He knew the chap
lain had no mail for him. All the 9TH
er boys were busily tearing open let
tiers and papers and hungrily devour-
ling every word.
] Then the chaplain stopped in front
of him and put hand on his shoulder.
My boy. wonder If" He put his
other hand in his pocket and drew out
a letter. st don't approve of this
much. I don't have any idea what's
inside. but I'm going to leave it with
you"
scanned the address. It was written in
a rather angular feminine hand on
plain white paper and directed to:
MR.. SOMEBODY,
j American Expeditionary Forces.
1 France.
Puzzled, he slid his trench knife I'M
der the flap and drew out the closely
written folded pages. The letter be-
gan: Dear Mr.. Somebody:-Before
you read my letter I'm going to ask
whether Or not you are getting nail
from home and friends. If you are.
will you please give this to someone
who is not. for thisSis not your letter.
| then. but his. I am writing to lonely
man who has no one to care about
him-not to you.
Philip pausedT Strange that the
chaplain had followed the directions
SO closely without divining the con-
tents. He tdrned again to the letter.
Surely the letter had reached its in
! tended destination. Who else had a
better right to it than he? Then sud
denly a revulsion of feeling seized
him. He didn't want sympathy, he
didn't want to read a lot of Sunday
school stuff about patiently bearing
ones lot and being sustained by pride
in what he was doing.
| His eyes ran rebelliously over the
next few words. then he read more
eagerly and before he knew it-but let
US read the letter.
First of ALL" it ran. I'm going to
4 body-py family. And Pm going to
htell you all about what we've been
Edoing. Maybe you'll want to hear
about them and maybe you won't, but
i absolutely refuse to sympathize with
your loneliness and write consoling
have something to put into letter, it
will just have to be the family. so
you'll have to be patient. And I'm not
going tofntroduce them. will speak
of them as tho you'd known US all
forever.
"To begin. Mr.. Peabody finally
came across and gave Dad the posi-
ton as department head that he
should have had years ago. oh, you
don't know what it meant to US! Or,
| I forgot, you do know, of course.
When Dad came home that night and
told us. Buddy stood right up in the
middle of the dining room table and
started to recite Webster's ration,
knocking over my vase of Glove shrub,
the first out of the garden. and ruin
ing brand clean table cloth that had
| taken me forty-seven minutes to iron
But I was in a forgiving humor. of
course, and merely kissed him and
ord led him down. Lofty gave Dad a
hug that nearly strangled him and
4 marched right upstairs and returned
| With every one-every one-mind you,
of her old dresses over her arm"
! Now. Sis she demai- ded, can't
give these to the poor Harbisons right
away, and get that pink embroidered
; wolfe and the Peter Tom suit tomor-
. row.
, Il was ready to promise anything,
my dear sir. but all the while I4was
thinking how fine it would he to have
, the money for the g-s and milk and
butcher and grocery man without
Dads having to sit up till midnight
figuring how to make the money
stretch.
well, that's that. Already. Dad
looks ten years younger. and last
night VIII N he was shaving l heard
him whistling. Wasn't it wonderful.
The Enerys next door are having
their house painted with mahogany
trimmings. 1t was a dear of a house
before they bought it and looked so
lovely white. But M-. Emery had
made fortune in munitions and he's
building /. .s.6 ne addition to it. I'm
| aginei Some wa I think houses are
like people, don't you? mean, they
show what kind of people live in them
Our house looks like the home of
poor genteel. as we're usually called.
Vines and things growing up to hide
places where we need a carpenter and
painter. It's like shoe polish on al
old pair OF. shoes. But think II ones
shoes are old, it's better to have them
. polished than not. don't you?
But talking of the house and vines
brings me to my hobby. My garden
, L don't know whether you like flowers