News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1922-06-07

I run and play all the time? Don't they
suppose we understand perfectly well
| what il means-that they're going to
say something they don't want us to
hear? Well, Mother and the lady on
| the bench talked and talked ever so
Tong, and then Mother called me mp
ana the lady cried little over me
and said "Now perhaps, if I'd had a
/ little girl like that" Then she
stopped and cried some more.
! We saw this lady real often after
that. She was nice and pretty and
sweet, and | liked her; but she was
! always awfully sad, and don't believe
it was half so good for Mother TO be
, with her as it would have been for her
| to be with those jolly, laughing ladies
that were always having such good
times But | couldn't make Mother
see ii that way at all. There are
fines when If seems as if mother just
couldn't see things the way | do. Hon
estlv, II seems sometimes almost as If
she was the cross current and contra
diction instead of mc 1t does.
Wen. as l said before, I didn't like
it very well out there, and l don't be-
lieve Mothersdid either, But it's all
over now, and we're back home pack
ing up to go to Boston.
Everything seems awfully queer
Maybe because Father isn't here, for
one thing. He wrote very polite and
asked us to come to get our things,
and he said he was going to New York
on business for several days, so Mother
need not fear he should annoy her
with his presence. Then, another
thing, Mothers queer. This morning
she was singing away at the top of her
voice and running all over the house
picking up things she wanted; and
seemed so happy. But this afternoon
| found her down on the floor in the
library crying as if her heart would
break, with her head in Fathers big
chair before the fireplace. But she
jumped up the minute l came in and
said, no, no, she didn't want anything.
She was just tired; that's all. And
when l asked her if she was sorry,
after all, that she was going to Boston
to live, she said, no, no, no, indeed,
she guessed she wasn't. She was just
as glad as glad could be that she was
going only sher.wished Monday would
hurry up and come so we could be
gone.
And that's all. It's a Saturday now,
and we go just day after tomorrow.
Our trunks are most packed, and
Mother says she wishes she'd planned
to go today. I've said goodbye to all
the girls, and promised to write loads
of letters about Boston and every
thing. They are almost as excited as
| am; and I've promised, "cross my !
heart and hope to die" that l won't
love those Boston girls better than |
do them-specially Carrie Haywood I
of course, my dearest friend. |
Nurse Sarah is lowering around
everywhere, asking to help, and pre- /
tending she's sorry we're going But .
she isn't sorry. She's glad. | know
she is. She never did appreciate
Mother, and she thinks she'll have ey-
her own way now But she
won't. | could tell her a thing or two
# l wanted to. But | shan't.
Fathers sister, Aunt Jane Anderson,
rom st. Paul, is coming to keep house
or him, partly on account of Father,
md partly on account of me. IF that
.hild is going to be with her father
,iX months of the time, she's got to
ave some woman there beside Il med
Hing old nurse and n0sey servant
,irl!' They didn't know | heard that.
But | did And now Aunt Jane is com
ne. Ny how mad Nurse Sarah would
'e If she knew. But she doesn't
| guess I'll end this chapter here
nd begin a fresh one down in Boston
IA, do so wonder what it'll he like
Boston, Mothers home, Grandpa Des-
lond, and all the rest. I'm 50 excited t.
can hardly wait. You see, Mother
ever took me home with her but once,
nd then | was a very small child. !
ont know why, but | guess Father
idn't want me to go. It's safe to say
e didn't, anyway. He never wants
re to do anything, hardly. That's why
suspect him of not wanting me to 90
own to Grandpa Desmond's. And
Iother didn't go only once. in ages.
Now this will be the enc. And when
begin again it will be i'm Boston.
My think of it-really, truly Bostonl {