The Hope pioneer., 1922-08-10


cied Sights from my schoolmates, and
brooded days at time because Faith
er or Mother didn't understand" l
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, I 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 it was indigestion that allied me,
or that was growing too fast; or per-
haps didn't get enough sleep. or
needed. maybe, good tonic. He took
me out Of school, and made 1t a 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 it, was
sane and sensible once more, serene
and happy in the simple faith of my
childhood.
Twas seventeen, If remember right
ly, when became worried, not over
my heavenly estate now, but my earth
ly one. l must have a career, Of
course. No namby-pamby everyday liv-
ing of dishes and busting and meals
and babies for me. 1t was all very
we'll, of course, for some people. Such
things had to be. But for me
could write. of course, but was
not sure but that preferred the stage.
At the same time there was within me
a deep stirring as of call to go out
and enlighten the world, especially
that portion of it in darkest Africa or
deadliest India. l would be mission
ary.
Before was eighteen, however. I
had abandoned all this. Father put
hts foot down hard on the missionary
r-oject, and Mother put hers down on
the stage idea.
So wrote stories-but I did not get
any of them printed in spite of my earn
est efforts. In time, therefore. that idea,
also, was abandoned; and with ir, re-
gretfully, the idea of enlightening the
world at all.
Besides, had Just then (again if
remember rightfully) fallen in love.
Not that it was the first time. Oh,
no, not at eighteen, when at thirteen
I had begun confidently and happily to
look for it! What sentimental little
piece I was! How could they have
been so patient with me-Father,
Mother, everybody!
think the first real attack-the
first that I consciously called love,
myself-was the winter after we had
all come back to Andersonville to live.
I was sixteen and in the high school.
1t was Paul Mayhew-yes, the same
Paul Mayhem that had defied 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, inexorable 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
supreme Indifference that was mad
den;ng. and that took apparently
no notice of the fact that every girl in
school was a willing slave to the mere
nod1ing of his head or the beckoning
of his hand.
This was the condition of things
when 1 entered school that fall, and
perhaps for week thereafter. Then
one day, very suddenly, and without
apparent reason, he awoke to the feet
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 l 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
safe distance.
This went on for perhaps a week.
Then he asked me to attend school
seigh-ride and supper with him.
was wild with delight. At the
same time l 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 l had my doubts-I had
very grave doubts. Yet it seemed to
me at that moment that I just had to
go on that sleigh-ride. That it was
the only thing in the whole wide world
worth while.
can remember now, as If it were
yesterday, the way l debated in my
mind as to whether l should ask
Father, Mother, or both together; and
if | should let 1t he seen how greatly