The Holbrook news., 1922-06-02
before. in iust thAt wav."

''She loved things like this-music laughter, gayety. l abhorred them. remember how bored I was that night here-till I saw her"
 And did you fall in love with her right away" I just couldn't help ask ing that question. Oh, I do so adore love stories
 A queer little smile came to Fathers lips.
 "Well, yes, I think I did, Mary. just looked at her Once-and then kept on looking till 1t seemed as if I just couldn't take my eyes off her. And after a little her glance met mine and the whole thrOng melted away. and there wasn't another soul in the room but just us two. Then she looked away, and the throng came back. But I still looked at her"
 "Was she so awfully pretty, Fa- ther?" I could feel the little thrills tingling all over me. Now I was get ting love story!
 ''She was. my dear. She was very lovely. But it wasn't just that-it was Joyous something that I could not describe. It was as if she were bird poised for flight I know it now for what it was-the very incarnation of the spirit of youth. And she was young. Why, Mary. she was not SD many years older than you yourself. now. You aren't sixteen vet. And lo young. If she hadn't been quite so young"
 He stopped, and stared again straight ahead at the dancers-with- out seeing one of them, knew Then he drew great deep sigh that seemed to come from the very bottom of his boots.
 But it was my fault, my fault. every bit of it. he muttered, still star ing straight ahead. If hadn't been so thOughtless- AS If l could i'm prison that bright spirit of youth in great dull cage of conventionality, and not expect it to bruise it's wings by fiuttering against the bars!"
 And right there and then it came to me that Mother said it was her fault, too; and that if only she could live 1t over again. she'd do differently. And here was Father saying the same thing. And all of a sudden l thought, well, why can't they try 1t over again, if they both want to, and if each says it was their-nO, his, no, hers-well, his and her fault. (How does the thing go? l hate grammar But I mean, If she says it's her fault, and he says it's his. That's what I thought. anyway. And I determined right then and there to give them the chance to try again, if speaking would do it.
 looked up at Father. He was still talking half under his breath, his eyes looking straight ahead. He had for gotten all about me. That was plain to be seen. If I'd been a cup of coffee without any coffee In 1t, he'd have been stirring me. know he would. He was like that.
 "Father, Father!" l had to speak twice, before he heard me. Do you really mean that you would like to try agaln?" 1 asked.
 'Eh? What?" And just the way he turned and looked at me showed how many miles he'd been away from me.
 "Try 1t again, you know-what you Said," I reminded him.
 "Oh, that!" Such a funny look came to his face, half ashamed, half veXed. "Pm afraid have been-talking, my dear"
 "Yes, but would you?" persisted.
 He shook his head; then, with such an Oh-that-it-could-be smile, he said:
 "Of cOurse-we all wish that we could go back and do 1t over again differently. But we never can."
 ''Yes, but, Father, you can go back, in this case, and so can Mother. cause you both want to-" hurried on, al- most choking in my anxiety to get it all out quickly. And Mother said 1t was her fault. 1 heard her"
 'Her fault !" I could see that Fla ther did not quite understand, even yet.
 "Yes, yes, just as you said it was yours-about all those things at the first. you know, when-when she was spirit of youth beating against the tsrs."
 Father turned square around and faced me.
 Mary, what are you talking about?" he asked then. And I'd have been scared of his voice if it hadn't been for the great light that was shining in his eyes.
 But looked into his eyes, and wasn't scared; and fold him every thing. every single thing-all about how Mother had cried over the little blue dress that day in the trunk-room, and how she had shown the tarnished lace and said that she had tarnished the happiness of him and of herself and of me; and that 1t was all her willful and exacting and a spoiled child and, oh, if she could only try 1t over again, how differently she would do! And there was a lot more. l told everything I could remember. Some way, 1 didn't be- lieve that Mother would mind now, after what Father had said. And l just knew she wouldn't mind if she could see the look in Fathers eyes as I talked.
 He didn't interrupt me-not long interruptions. He did speak out a quick little word now and then, at some of the parts; and once l know 1 saw him wipe a tear from his eyes.