The Jasper news., 1922-08-17

CHAPTER VI-Contlnued.


gan to walk again, up and down, up
and down. Then. all of a sudden, she
flung herself on the couch and began
to cry and sob as If her heart would
brenk. And when l tried to comfort
her, ! only seemed to make 1t worse,
for she threw her arms around me
and cried:
"Oh, my darling, my darling, don't
you see how dreadful 1t is. how dread
full It Is2"
And then is when she began to talk
some more about being married, and
unmarried as we were. She held me
close again and began to sob and cry.
"Oh, my darling, don't you see how
dreadful it oil is-how unnatural II is
for US to llve--this way7 And for
you-you poor child what could be
worse for you? And here I am. jeal-
Ous-Jealous of your own father, for
fear you'll love him better than you
do mel
"Oh, know l ought not to say all
this to you-I know l ought not to.
But / can't-help 1t. ! want you!
want you every minute; but have
to give you up-six whole months Of
every year / have TO give you up to
him. And he's your father, Marie.
And he's a good man. know he's n
good man. ! know 1t oil the better
now since I've seen-other men. And
] ought TO tell you to love him. But
Tm so afraid-you'll love him better
than you do me, and want to leave
me. And ] can't give you upl can't
give you upl"
Then / tried to tell her, of course.
that she wouldn't have 10 give me up,
and that l loved her a whole lot bet
ter than | did Father. But even that
didn't comfort her, cause she said
ought TO love him. Tha, he was lone
some and needed me. He needed me
just as much as she needed me, and
maybe more. And then she went on
again about how unnatural and awful
1t was TO live the way we were living
And she called herself a wicked wom-
an that she'd ever allowed things to
get to such a pass. And she said If
she could only have her life to live
over again she'd do so differently-oh,
so differently.
Then she began TO cry again, and
] couldn't do u thing with her; and,
of course, that worked me all up and
] began TO cry.
She stopped then, right of short,
and wiped her eyes fercely with her
wet ball of handkerchief. And she
asked what was she thinking of, and
didn't she know any better than to
talk like this TO me. Then she said,
come, we'd 90 for a ride.
And we did.
And all the rest of that day Mother
was so gay and lively you'd think she
didn't know how to cry.
Now, wasn't that funny?
OF course, | shall answer Fathers
letter right away, but | haven't the
faintest idea what TO say.
ONE WEEK LATER
] answered it-Father's letter,
mean-yesterday ind it's gone now.
But ] had an awful time over II. |
just didn't know what in the world
TO say. I'd start out all right, and I'd
think l was going to get along beautI-
fully. Then, all of a sudden, It would
come over me, what l was doing
writing letter to my father And
could imagine just how he'd look when
he got it, all stern and dlgnl6ed, sit
ting In his chair with his paper-cutter
and I'd imagine his eyes looking down
and reading what wrote. And when
] thought of that, my pen Just wouldn't
go. The idea of my writ ng anything
my father would want to read!
And so I'd try to think Of things that
could write-big things-big things
that would interest big men: About
the President and our-country- 'tis-of
thee, and the state OF the weather
and the crops. And so I'd begin:
Dear Father: take my pen In
hand to inform you that"
Then I'd stop and think and think
and chew my pen-handle. Then II
put down something. But It was .aw
full, and ! knew II was awful. So II
have to tear II up and begin again.
Three times ] did that; then begaI
TO cry. It-dId, seem as II never coult
write THAT letter. Once ] thought O
asking Mother, what to say, and get
ting her 10 help ne. Then emem
bsred-how she cried and took on an