The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1918-01-05

all, what we must avoid"
But - but how, mother?" asked |
Mary in amazement. You say you
could not afford to get specialist for
papa-and yet how is it you are able
to buy me such nice things-for in
stance, that pretty silk frock for the
Dennison garden party? 1t must have
cost quite good deal.'
Because your father wished you to
have it, her mother answered quiet
ly. When he heard about the party
coming off, he said to me, DO let the
child go to it, Helen. 1t is so dull for
her here. / know what young things
are, and it would not help me in the
least to see her fading If you can
spare the money at all let her have a
nice frock and be happy. l like to see
Mary wearing pretty things. And,
after all, may not be here so long, and
| should like to see my little girl en-,
joying bit of sunshine and happi-
ness before / go!' Those are just his
words, DEAR"
Mary was really crying now.
II wish you hadn't, mother" she
sobbed. II meant wish you hadn't
spent the money on that dress-I feel
as though could never wear it now,
not even to please poor papa. If we
could only sell it, mother, and get
the money back! Perhaps Elsie Den.
nison would buy it from me-she is so
fond of pretty things. But there, if
she's going to be nurse"
Il haven't much faith in Elsie's
nursing" said Mrs. Benson, with a
dubious frown. "She has always
seemed to me such shallow, vain,
frivolous little thing, without any
real heart or character. I'm sure
she'd faint at the first sight of blood;
and nursing is hard, strenuous life.
was talking to your father about
that, too, and he said if you really
wished to become a nurse, why should
we stand in your"
"But l don't-not now," Mary broke
in hurriedly, thoroughly repentant and
self-reproaching. "Oh, mother" she
went on, what a silly, heartless girl
you must have thought me, too. And
you so unselfish, so brave, so self-sac-
rificing always! You seem never to
tire, you are on your feet from morn
ing till night"
Nonsense, child" cried Mrs. Ben
son, almost gaily. ut is just labor
of love. do all that simply because
| like it. and I shouldn't be happy
otherwise"
well, MOTHER cried Mary, very
soberly and earnestly, I'm going to
do it, too, just because l like it, l
realize now what selfish, lazy wretch
l have been all along, always con-
cerned with my own comfort and
pleasure, and too blind to see that my
| poor dear beautiful little mother was
harrassed and almost worn out with
the weight of a thousand troubles and
cares that l should have helped her
to carry. But I'm going to do it now,
mother, l really am! I shall do my
very best to make our poor papa hap
py."
THAT will be splendid" said her
mother with shining eyes. For oh,
Mary, though he wanted you to be
happy and enjoying yourself-as every
young creature ought to do, he used
to say could often see, my dear,
that he was very, very lonely at the
same time for his one little daughter S
company. But now-if he only felt
| that you liked to be with him, I'm
sure it would cheer him up wonder
fully! After all, there are so many
busy moments when I could not be
at his side, and | often felt he was
lonely and depressed. 1t is so sad
and changed for a big, strong man
like him to have to lie there idle and
helpless all day. He so often calls
himself a useless log and incum
brance, and worries himself always
over our comfort and welfare. But
now-we'H see, you and I, what love
can do for him. And something OF
| the fond hope and faith that shone
in her mothers faded blue eyes was
reflected now in Mary's young, eager
| bright ones.
| After that a new lease of life seem
ed somehow to have been given tc
poor Mr.. Benson. He suffered from
acute heart-troubles which for the
last couple of years had prevented
him from carrying on his usual bust
ness, and had resulted laterly in his
| becoming a complete invalid, almost
always confined to his bed. 1t seem
ed all the sadder and more heart
| breaking because he had always been
a man full of life and spirits, inspired
with a thousand energies and enter
! prises for the comfort and betterment
| of those dearest to him; but if he
ever felt now any bitterness OF
despair, anything of the impotence or
irritability to be expected from one
SO unhappily placed, he certainly
never showed even hint of it to his
loved wife and daughter. With the
boys, perhaps, noisy and thoughtless
as only young boys can be, he might
have been less patient; but luckily
they spent most Of their time at
school,
| Mary outrivaled her mother now in
her untiring devotion and unselfish.
ness. She seemed never happy any
| where except by her fathers bedside.