The Nevada County picayune., 1922-06-29

l wanted to take. It was beautifully clear night, so stayed there till near ly morning.
 How about itf suppose Marie plays the piano every day, now. doesn't shef The piano here hasn't been touched since you went away. Oh, yes. 1t was touched once. Your aunt played hymns on 1t for a missionary meeting
 "Well, what did you do Christmasi Suppose you write and tell
 Your Father"
 I'd been reading the letter out loud, and when I got through Mother was pacing up and down the room. For minute she didn't say anything; then she whirled round suddenly and faced me, and said. just as If something in- side of her was making her say it:
 II notice there Is no mention of your mother in that letter. Marie I suppose-your father has quite forgot ten that there Is such a person in the world as-I."
 But told her no. oh, no, and that 1 was sure he remembered her. for he used to ask me questions often about what she did. and the violinist and all. 'The violinist '" cried Mother. whirl- ing around on me again. tShed 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 I was, so she would be patient. too (But it didn't work.) T 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, I said I didn't know which you'd take and"
 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 a sudden. she flung herself on the couch and began to cry and soh as If her heart would break. And when I tried to comfort her. I 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 II Is, how dread full it isY'
 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 all is-hoW unnatural 1t Is for us to liye-this way And for you-you poor child what could be worse for yout And here 1 am. Jeal- ous-jeaIous oi your own father, Tor fear you'll love him better than you do me
 "Oh. I know l ought not to say all this to vou-l know 1 ought not 10. But I cau.t-help It. want you l waul you every minute; but | have to give vou up-siX whole months of every year l have to give You up i9 him. And he's your father, Marie ADd hes good man know hes E good man. knoe 1t all the better now since I've seen-other men Ana ogubt to tell you to love hiuA Bua I'm so afraid -you'n love him better than you dc me, and want to leave me. And l can't give you up ! can E give you Hp
 Then | tried to tell her, of course. that she wouldn't have to give hie uP- and that | loved her whole lot bel ter thpu I did Father. But even thal didn't comfort her, cause she sala ! ought to love him. That he was lone some and needed ne. He needed me hIst as much as she needed me, and mavhe more. And then she went on epatn about how unnatural and aWlui 1T was to live the way we were living And she called herself a wicked "ehl- an that she'd ever allowed thlh9s to get to such a pass. And she sald II che could only have her life to live over again she'd do so differently-oh' so differently.
 Then she began 10 cry again, and I couldn't do thing with her; ahd' of course, that worked me all up ana began to cry.
 She stopped then, right off short and wiped her eyes fiercely win hef wei bah of handkerchief. And she asked what was she thinking 2L and