The Press., 1919-03-20
"A Letter To Mir. Somebody"
By LOUISE OLIVER

than a dollar, all told.
 Come on in, Pearson, the betting's
 fine," called Dorgan. "Sky's the limit. g But Philip shook his head. "It hurts my finer feelings to see my fellow be- ings risking their immortal souls. l
 can't be party to the outrage. Be
 sides, I'm broke." 'Poor Phil !" Dorgan drew three
 cards. Lonely again."
 "Who's he got to be lonely for?'' Kearney, new to the company, didn't know PhiTs 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 PhiPs trouble. He just naturally hasn't got anybody. That's what he's think ing this minute. I'll bet a jitney. Nev-
 CT gets any mail-never hears from anyone. By George, here comes Randy now with letters. Hurrah! The mails in, Jimmy! All those for me, chap lain? We'll, this is my day"
 Philip sat stolidly on the fire step without moving. He knew the chap lain had no mail for him. All the oth- CT boys were busily tearing open let ters and papers and hungrily devouring every word.
 Then the chaplain stopped in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder. My boy, I wonder if" He put his other hand in his pocket and drew out a letter. q don't approve of this much. I don't have any idea what's inside, but I'm going. to leave 1t with you."
 Philip took the letter eagerly and scanned the address. It was written in rather angular feminine hand on plain white paper and directed to:
 MIR. SOMEBODY,
 American Expeditionary Forces,
 France.
 Puzzled, he slid his trench knife un- der the flap and drew out the closely written folded pages. The letter be- gan: Dear MT. Somebody: Before you read my letter I'm going to ask whether or not you are getting mail from home and friends. If you are, will you please give this to someone who is not, for this is not your letter, then, but his. I am writing to lonely man who has no one to care about him not to you."
 Philip paused. Strange that the chaplain had followed the directions so closely without divining the con tents. He turned again to the letter. Surely the letter had reached It's in- tended destination. Who else had a better right to it than hea Then sud- denly revulsion of feeling seized him. He didn't want sympathy, he didn't want to read 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, "rm going to wish family onto you, MT. Some body-my family. And I'm going to tell you all about what we've been doing. 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 things like that. And as I have to have something to put into letter, you will just have to be patient. And I'm not going to introduce them. I will speak of them as though you'd known us all forever.
 ''To begin, MT. Peabody finally came across and gave Dad the position as department head that he should have had years ago. Oh, you don't know what it meant to us! Or, 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 oration, knocking over my vase of clove shrub, the first out of the garden, and ruining a bran clean table cloth that had taken me forty-seven minutes to iron. But I was in for giving humor, of course, and merely kissed him and ordered him down. Lotty gave Dad hug that nearly him and marched right up- stairs and returned with everyone you, of her old dresses over her arm."
 "'Now, Sis,' she demanded, cant give these to the poor Harbisons right away, and get that pink-embroided voile and the Peter Tom suit tomor- rowY
 was ready to promise anything, my dear sir, but all the while was thinking how fine it would be to have the money for the gas 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 when he was shaving heard him whis- ting. Wasn't it wonderful!
 'The Emerys next door are having their house painted with mahogany It was a dear of a house before they bought it and looked so lovely white. But MT. Emery had made fortune in munitions and he's building a stone addition to 1t. Im- agine! Some way think houses are like people, don't you? I 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 carpenter and painter. It's like shoe polish on an old pair of shoes. But think if one's shoes are old, it's better to have them polished han not, don't you?
 'But talking of the house and vines brings me to my hobby. My garden don't know whether you like flowers pr not-but just have to tell you about it. Just now I'm writing out lere in an old green swing under a nfv,1r hna oA H1 ID,