The Nevada County picayune., 1922-06-01

they're worse than + oloA naye them. They make me so homesick. and l always cry so after get them. Still, I know I just couldn't live minute If t wasn't for Mothers let ters.
 Besides being so lonesome there's another thing that worries me, too; and that is, this-what I'm writing, mean. The novel. It's getting awful ly stupid. Nothing happens. Noth- ingl Of course, if twas just a story I could make up things-lots of them exciting, interesting things, like having Mother elope with the violin ist, and Father shoot him and fall in love with Mother all over again, or else with somebody else, and shoot that ones lover. Or maybe somebody'd try to shoot Father, and I'd get there just in time to save him. Oh, I'd love thatl
 But this is real story, so, Of course, I can't put in anything only just what happens; and nothing happens.
 And that's another thing. About the love story-I'm afraid there isn't going to be one. Anyway, there isn't a bit of sign of one, yet, unless it's Mother. And of course, haven't seen her for three months, so can't say anything about that.
 Father doesn't like ladies. I know he doesn't. He always runs away from them. But they don't run away from him Listen.
 Quite a lot of them call here to see Aunt Jane, and they come lots of times evenings and late afternoons, and I know now why they do it. They come then because they think Father1l be at home at that time ;and they want to see him.
 know it now, but I never thought of 1t till the other day when I heard our hired girl. Susie, talking about 1t with Bridget, the SmaRs' hired girl over the fence when I was weeding the garden one day. Then knew. It was like this:
 Mrs. Darling had been over the night before as usual, and had stayed
 
 Jane on the front piazza. Father had been there, too, awhile. She stopped him on his way into the house. l was there and heard her. She said:
 "Oh, Mir Anderson, I'm so glad l saw you! l wanted to ask your ad- vice about selling poor dear Mir. Darling's law library"
 And then she went on to tell him how she'd had an offer, but she wasn't sure whether it was a good one or not. And she told him how highly she prized his opinion, and he was a man of such splendid judgment. and she felt so alone now with no strong mans shoulder to lean upon, and she would be so much obliged if he only would tell her whether he considered that offer a good one or not.
 Father hitched and ahemmed and nov ed nearer the door all the time she was talking, and he didn't seem to hear her when she pushed chair sit down and tell her what to do that she was so alone in the world since poor dear MT. Darling had gone. (She always calls him poor dear Mir. Oar ling now, but Susie says she didn't when he was alive: she called him what 1t was.)
 Well, as l said, Father hitched and fidgeted, and said he didn't know, he was sure; that shed better take wiser counsel than his, ana that he was very sorry, but she really must excuse him. And he got through the door while he was talking just as fast as he could himself, so that she couldn't get in a single word to keep him. Then he was gone.
 Mrs. Darling stayed on the piazza two whole hours longer, but Father never came out at all again.
 IL was the next morning that Susie said this over the backyard fence to Bridget:
 Tt does beat all how popular this house is with the ladies-after college hours ]"
 And Bridget chuckled and answered back:
 "Sure 1t is! An I do be thinkin' the Widder Darlin' Is heap fonder of Miss Jane now than she would have been had poor dear Mir Darlin' lived !"
 And she chuckled again, and so did Susie. And then, all of sudden, knew. It was Father Mrs. Darling wanted. They came here to see him. They wanted to marry him. As if didn't know what Susie and Bridget meant I'm no child!
 But all this doesn't make Father