Belington progressive. [volume] (Belington, W. Va.) 1912-1927, 1922-05-11

round looking for something to do. /
wanted to play on the piano, but
| didn't dare. to-not with all those
parlor watching me, and the chance of
Fathers coming in as he did before.
l was standing in the window star
| ing out at nothing-it wasn't quite
dark yet-when again had that queer
| feeling that somebody was looking at
me. l turned-and there was Father.
| He had come in and was sitting in the
| big chair by the table. But this time
he didn't look right away as usual and
| give me a chance to slip quietly out
of the room, as l always had before.
Instead he said:
what are you doing there, MaryY
"Just Hooking out the window"
"Come here. / want to talk to you"
Eyes, Father"
l went, of course, at once, and sat
down in the chair near him. He
hitched again in his seat.
"Why don't you do something-read,
sew, knit?" he demanded. "Why do
always find you moping around, doing
nothingw
Just like that he said it; and when
he had just told me
"Why, Father" I cried; and know
that / showed how surprised / was.
Il thought you just said couldn't do
nottingham nobody could !"
"Eh? What Tut, tutI' He seemed
very angry at first; then suddenly he
looked sharply into my face. Next, if
you'll believe it, he laughed-the
queer little chuckle under his breath
that I've heard him give two or three
| times when there was something he
thought was funny "Humph" he
grunted Then he gave me another
sharp look out of his eyes, and said:
| Il don't think you meant that to be
| quite so impertinent as it sounded,
Mary, so wen let it pass-this time.
| I'll put my question this way: Don't
| you ever knit or read or sew"
Il do sew every day in Aunt James
room, ten minutes hemming, ten min
utes scanning, and ten minutes basting
patchwork squares together. I don't
know how to knit
"How about reading? Don't you
care for reading?"
".Why, of course I do. love it !" I
cried. "And 4, / do read lots-at
home"
"At-home?"
knew, then, of course, that I'd
made another awful break. There
wasn't any smile around Fathers eyes
now, and his lips came together hard
and thin over that last word
"At-at my home" stammered. II
| mean, my other home'
'Humphl" grunted Father. Then,
after minute: "But why, pray, can't
you read here? Pm sure there are
books enough" He fourished his
hands toward the bookcases all
around the room.
"Oh, / do-a little; but, you see,
out when I'm through" l explained.
swell, what of it? What if you do?"
he demanded.
"Why, Fatherv / tried to show by
the way / said it that he knew-of
course he knew. But he made me tell
him right out that Aunt Jane wouldn't
like it, and that the books always had
to be kept exactly where they be-
longed.
well, why not? Why shouldn't
they? Aren't books down therein
Boston-kept where they belong,
pray?"
1t was the first time since I'd come
almost jumped out of my chair when
heard him. But I soon saw it wasn't
| going to be the last, for right then
and there he began to question me,
even worse than Aunt Jane had.
He'd been up on his feet, tramping
up and down the room all the time
I'd been talking; and now all of
sudden, he wheels around and stops
short.
How is-your mother, Mary?" he
asks. And it was just as if he'd
| opened the door to another room, he
had such whole lot of questions to
ask after that. And when he'd fin
| lSneu ne Knew everything Wlldl time
we got up and went to bed, and what
we did all day, and the parties and
dinners and auto rides, and the folks
that came such a lot to see Mother.
Then all of a sudden he stopped
asking questions, mean. He stopped
! just as suddenly as he'd begun. Why,
was right in the middle of telling
about concert for charity we got up
| just before / came away, and how
| Mother had practiced for days and
days with the young man who played
the violin, when all of a sudden Fa-
Their jerked his watch from his pocket
and said:
There, there, Mary, it's getting
late. You've talked enough-too
much. Now go to bed. Good night"
Talked too much, indeed! And
who'd been making me do all the
talking, l should like to know? But,
of course, l couldn't say anything.
THAT'S tha unfair mart of If Old f0llxc