The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1922-04-06

they found Mother didn't nave lover
waiting in the next town, or Father
hadn't run off with his stenographer,
or nobody had shot anybody, or any
thing.
That made me mad, and let them
see it, good and plain. l told them our
divorce was perfectly all right and
genteel and respectable; that Nurse
Sarah said it was. Ours was going to
be incompatibility, for one thing,
which meant that you got on each
others nerves, and just naturally
didn't care for each other any more.
But they only laughed, and said even
more disagreeable things, so that
didn't want to go to school any longer,
and I told Mother so, and the reason,
too, of course.
But, dear me, I wished right off that
I hadn't. supposed she was going to
be superb and naughty and disdainful,
and say things that would put those
girls where they belonged. But, my
stars! How could I know that she
was going to burst into such storm
of sobs and clasp me to her bosom, and
get my face all wet and cry out: "Oh,
my baby, my baby-to think / have SUBJ
jected you to this, my baby, my baby!''
And I couldn't say thing to COM
fort her, or make her stop, even when
I told her over and over again that I
wasn't baby. I was almost a young
lady; and I wasn't being subjected to
anything bad. liked it-only didn't
like to have those girls brag so, when
our divorce was away ahead Of theirs,
anyway.
But she only cried more and more,
and held me tighter and tighter, rock
ing back and forth in her chair. She
took me out of school, though, and had
q lady come to teach me all by myself,
so I didn't have to hear those girls
brag any more, anyway. That was
better. But she wasn't any happier
herself. I could see that.
There were lots Nof other ladies there
- beautiful ladies - only she didn't
seem to like them any better than
did the girls. wondered If maybe
they Dragged, too, and I asked her;
but she only began to cry again, and
moan, "What have I done, what have
I done?'-and I had to try all over
again to comfort her. But couldn't.
She got so she just stayed in her
room lots and lots. I tried to make
her put on her pretty clothes, and do
ais the other ladies did, and go out and
walk and sit on the big piazzas, and
dance, and eat at the pretty little
tables. She did, some, when we first
came, and took me, and just loved
it. They were such beautiful ladies,
with their bright eyes, and their red
cheeks and jolly ways; and their
dresses were so perfectly lovely, all
silks and satins and sparkly spangies,
and diamonds and rubies and euer-
aids, lad silk stockings, anc httle bits
Of golG and silver slippers.
And once I saw two Of them smok-
ing. They had the cutest little Gigs
rettes (Mother said they were) In gold
holders, and I knew thea that I was
seeing life-real life; not the stupid
kind you get back in country town
like Andersonville. And I said so to
Mother; and was going to ask her
if Boston was like that. But didn't
get the chance. She jumped up so
quick I thought something had hurt
her, and cried, "Good Heavens, BabyF
(How I hate 70 be called "Baby"D
Then she just threw some money on
to the table to pay the bill and hurried
me away.
It was after that that she began to
stay in her room so much, and NOT
take me anywhere except for walks
at the other end Of the town where
it was all quiet and stupid, and NO
music or lights or anything. And
though I teased and teased to go back
to the pretty, jolly places, she wouldn't
ever take me; not once.
Then by and by, one day we met a
little black-haired woman with white
cheeks and very big sad eyes. There
weren't any spangly dresses and gold
slippers about her, can tell you!, She
was crying on bench in the park,
and Mother told me to stay back and
watch the swans while she went up
and spoke to her. (Why do old folks
always make US watch swans or read
books or look into store windows or
run and play all the time? Don't they
suppose we understand perfectly well
what it means-that they're going to
say something they don't want us 70
hear9) Well, Mother and the lady on
the bench talked and talked ever so
long, and then Mother called me up'
and the lady cried little over me,
and said, "Now, perhaps, If I'd had q
little girl like that! Then sne
stopped and cried some more.
We saw this lady real often after
that. She was nice and pretty and
sweet, and 1 liked her; but she was
always awfully sad, and don't believe
Il was half 50 good for Mother to be
with her as it would have been for het