Belington progressive. [volume] (Belington, W. Va.) 1912-1927, 1922-08-17

er or Mother didn't understand"
questioned everything in the earth
beneath and the heavens above; and
in my dark despair over an averted
glance from my most intimate friend,
/ meditated on whether life was, or
was not, worth the living, with a pre-
| ponderance toward the latter.
Mother-dear mother looked on
| aghast. She feared, ] think for my
life; certainly for my sanity and
morals.
1t was Father who came to the res
cue. He pooh-poohed Mothers fears ;
said 1t was indigestion that allied me,
or that was growing too fast; or per-
haps I didn't get enough sleep, or
needed, maybe, good tonic. He took
me out Of school, and made 1t point
| to accompany me on long walks. He
| talked with me-not to me-about the
| birds and the trees and the sunsets,
and then about the deeper things of
life, until, before realized 1t, was
sane and sensible once more, serene
and happy In the simple faith Of my
childhood.
was seventeen, II remember right
ly, when became worried, not over
my heavenly estate now, but my earth
ly one. I must have career Of
course. No namby-pamby everyday liv-
ing Of dishes and busting and meals
and babies for me. 1t was all very
well, of course, for some people. Such
things had to be. But for me
1 could write, Of course, but / was
not sure but that preferred the stage.
At the same time there was within me
deep stirring as Of call to 60 out
and enlighten the world, especially
that portion of 1t In darkest Africa or
deadliest India. would be mission
airy.
Before was eighteen, however, I
had abandoned all this. Father put
his foot down hard on the missionary
project, and Mother put hers down on
the stage idea.
So wrote stories-but did not get
any Of them printed in spite Of my earn
est efforts. In time, therefore, that idea,
also, was abandoned; and with IL, re-
gretfully, the idea Of enlightening the
world at all.
Besides, had Just then (again If
remember rightfully) fallen in love.
Not that 1t was the first time. Oh,
no, not at eighteen, when at thirteen
I had begun confidently and happily to
look for It'll What sentimental little
piece vast How could they have
been SO patient with me-Father,
Mother, everybody!
I think the first real attack-the
first that consciously called love,
myself-was the winter after we had
all come back to Andersonville to live.
was sixteen and In the high school,
1t was Paul Mayhew-yes, the same
Paul Mayhem that had def1ed his
mother and sister and walked home
with me one night and invited me to
go for an automobile ride, only to be
sent sharply about his business by my
stern, memorable Aunt Jane. Paul was
in the senior class now, and the hand
soonest, most admired boy in school.
He didn't care for girls. That is, he
said he didn't He bore himself with
a supreme Indifference that was mad
dening and that took apparently
no notice Of the fact that every girl In
school was willing slave to the mere
nodding Of his head or the reckoning
Of his hand.
This was the condition of things
when / entered school that fall, and
perhaps for week thereafter. Then
one day, very suddenly, and without
apparent reason, he awoke to the fact
Of my existence. Candy, flowers, books
some one of these he brought to me
every morning. All during the school
day he was my devoted gallant, dane
ing attendance every possible minute
outside Of session hours, and walking
home with me In the afternoon,
proudly carrying my books. Did say
'home with me-? That Is not strictly
true-he always stopped just one
block short of "home"-one block
short of my gate. He evidently had
not forgotten Aunt Jane, and did not
intend to take any foolish risks! So
he said good-by to me always at a
safe distance.
This went on for perhaps a week
Then he asked me to attend school
sleigh-ride and supper with him.
was wild with delight At the
same time was wild with apprehen-
sion. / awoke suddenly to the fact
of the existence Of Father and Mother,
and that their permission must be
gained. And had my doubts-I had
very grave doubts. Yet 1t seemed to
me at that moment that just had to
go on that sleigh-ride That 1t was
the only thing in the whole wide world
worth while
/ can remember now, as IL 1t were
yesterday, the way debated In my
mind as to whether I should ask
Father, Mother, or both together; and
IL / should let 1t be seen how greatly
T desired tn % and how unuch II paoapf