South Bend news-times. (South Bend, Ind.) 1913-1938, 1918-12-13
HOW MOTHERS LETTER TO
MADGE ENDED.

ham. vot is matter; you seeck?
Please let me in"
Katie's anxious, high pitched voice
outside the door reused me from the
reverie into which had fallen upon
learning from my mothers last let
ter to me, which I had just discov-
cred, that my father was probably
alive. and had provided for me.
had no idea how long it had
been since I sprang to my feet. drop
ping the letter IN my amazement.
l had paced the floor until l was
exhausted, and then, still with the
amazement of II all upon me had
sunk into a chair and remained
there, staring into vacancy, as 1
turned over and over in my brain
the startling news had read.
l picked up the scattered pages
OF my mothers letter from the floor.
and laying them upon my bed went
to the door and admitted Katie who.
bearing a huge tray. looked as if she
were in danger of dropping it, 50
wide-eyed and distracted was she.
II was 'fraid you seeck, Missis
Graham. 1 knock, one, two, three
times-you no say noting!"
She set the tray down, then cast
shrewd look around at the old
fashioned trunk standing open and
at the letter on the bed.
dot no good" she said. shaking
her head wisely, dot bring you
notings"
What do you mean. Katie?" I
asked.
you been looking over old times,
old letters, crying over dem. You
married now. better forget every
ting gone before"
A stern reproof for the girls i'm
pertinence trembled upon my lips,
but one glance at her earnest, visit
full face stilled the speech upon my
tongue. The girl was honestly
anxious about me. Whatever she
had said had been from the depths
of her loving, faithful heart.
"T'H Try Not To-
The absurdity Of her surmise
struck a humorous note which 7
sorely needed. Katie supposed me
to be incoming over old love letters.
I'm sorry I did not hear you
knock. Katie" I said. gently IT was
looking over my mothers letters and
things, and forgot everything else.
Is it luncheon timer"
The girls eyes widenef in dismay.
"Oh, Missis Graham, not know. q"
she said. II so sorry. I speeck dat
TofA
Never mind that low. Katie-let
us see what you've brought me for
luncheon. Have Mr. Graham and
his mother eaten YETI"
"I no call dem yet. I bring yours
first ting, so it hot" Katie returned,
and my heart warmed at the knowl-
edge that the girl put me first of all.
although ] felt constrained to chide
I her for her action.
You shouldn't have done that
Katie" said I'm afraid Mr.. era
hams mother will not like it."
'I no care vet she likes!"
Katie's tone was solemn and re-
bellious.
shes not my missis; 7 not stay
two hours If she my missis; you nv
missis bring you tings nice and
hot. You eat dem queeck, to plees
Katie"
"I'H try my best. Katie" 7 return
ed. and thank YOU very much"
7 knew I was being lamentably
deficient in discipline, but the
thought had come 70 me that It was
the height Of folly for me to antag-
onize Katie. who was so devoted to
me. for the sake Of my mother-in-
| law. who lost no opportunity of
making me uncomfortable.
Dots right Katie returned
/ heartily and placing my tray Upon
my sewing table. she drew up a
chair. arranged my place and un-
I covered the steaming dishes for me.
| Now I must run queeck," she
| said. hurrying 10 the door. Eat
J dot up, every bit. I COON back for
tray"
IT will set the tray on the stand
! in the hall" I said, quietly. so you
! will not need to knock again"
"All right, feex," she answered.
and then. with her hand on the door.
she said, pleadingly. Promise me,
/ plees. You no cry no more"
"Tl TRY not to. Katie" I said
vuietly. and she went out, smilingly
treasured.
I ate as much Of the delicious
luncheon she had prepared, as I
could force down, for I feared TO
hurt her feelings, but I had little
appetite. and it was not long before
7 had set the tray in the hall and
was back in the room with the door
/ locked and my mothers letter again
in my hands.
Remember. II is my last wish.
/ Margaret. the letter went on. that
if your father be Twin, sometime
YOU may be reconciled to him. I
have been weak and bitter enough
during all these years to be meanly
7 comforted by your staunch cham
pionship Of me. and your detesta-
ton OF the wrong your father did
me. But death brings clearer vision.
my child. and I cannot wish that
your fathers last years.-if. indeed,
he be living should be desolated by
not knowing you. I want you =
know that there were things which,
while they did not extenuate your