Gunnison news-champion., 1922-06-09
My Dear hi'ry:

It
My Dear M'ry:
Some way Christmas has made me
thtLE Of you wish had sent you
some gift Yet have not the slightest
Idea what would please you. To tell
the truth. tried to md something
but had TO give it up
Il am wondering II you had a good
time, and what you did, After all. I'm
pretty sure you did have good time,
FOR you are Marie now. You see.
have not forgotten how tired you got
OF being Mary. Well. well, ! do not
know a. ! can blame you
And now that | have asked what
you did for Christmas. ] suspect 1t is.
no more than fair turuahout to tell
you what did. suppose Ind very
good time. Your Aunt Jane says
did heard her telling one OF the
ueiZhhors that last night She had n
very fine dinner. and she invited Mrs.
Darling and Miss Snow and Miss San
born 10 ent II with US She said she
didn't want me 10 feel lonesome. But
YOU Gun feel real lonesome IN a crowd
sometimes Did you know that. Mary7
But left them 10 their chatter aft
er dinner and went ont TO the observn.
tory. think must have fallen asleep
on the couch there, for II was quite
dark when ! nwoke But didn't mind
that for there were some observations
wanted 10 take II was a beautifully
clear night. So l stayed there till near
ly morning
How about IT. ! suppose Marie
plays the plano every day now. doesn't
she1 The pinno here hasn't been
touched since you went away. Oh.
yes. II was touched once. Your aunt
played hymns on Il for a missionary
meeting.
well what did you do Christmasf
Suppose YOU write and tell
Your Father"
I'd been reading the letter out loud,
and when ! got through Mother was
pacing up and down the room. For
q minute she didn't say anything; then
she whiried round suddenly and faced
( me. and said, Just as II something In
side OF her WAS making her say Il:
81 notice there Is no mention OF
/ your mother In that letter. Marie.
suppose-your father has quite forgot
( ten that there Is such person In the
[ world as-I"
/ But told her no. oh, no. and that
was sure he remembered her. for he
used to ask me questions often about
l. a
The viollnist," cried Mother. whirl-
ing around on me again. tShe'd be
[ gun TO walk up and down once more)
You don't mean to say you ever told
your father about him.
"oh. no. not everything" explained,
trying TO show how patient was, so
/ she would be patient, too. (Bnt {,
| didn't work. II couldn't tell him
| everything because everything hadn't
happened then. But told about his
! being here and about the others, too:
but, of course. said ! didn't know
/ which you'd take, and"
I you told him you didn't know which
/ I'd take!" gasped Mother.
Just like that she interrupted. and
! she looked so shocked. Then she be
gan TO walk again, up and down, up
/ and down. Then. all of sudden, she
{ flung herself on the couch md began
| to cry and sob as II her heart would
break. And when tried to comfort
her, / only seemed TO make It 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 II is!"
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 IL all is-how unnatural 1t is
for US to liveLthis wayi And for
I you-you poor child,--what could be
worse for you? And here l am, jeai-
ous-jealous of your own father, for
| fear you'll love him better than you
do mel
"Oh. I know ought not to say all
this to you'll know l ought not to.
But can't-help 1t. l want you!
want you every minute: but have
to give y9u up-six whole months of
every year l have to give you up to
him. And he's your father. Marie.
And he's a good man. ! know he's
good man. know 1t all the better
now since I've seen-other men. And
I ought to tell you to love hi.n. Sli