The Holbrook news., 1922-05-05

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 an of-course-yOure re-my daughter tone of voice.
 We'll he took my books and heard my lessons, and told me what 1 was to study next day. He's done that two days now.
 And I've got more than four whole months of 1t left. I didn't get Moth CTS letter today. Maybe that's why I'm specially lonesome tonight.
 JULY FIRST.
 School Is done, both the regular school and my school. Not that my school has amounted to much. Really he asked questions quite like just a teacher. Then he got to talking. Sometimes 1t would be about some thing in the lessons; sometimes 1t would be about a star, or the moon. And he'd get so interested that I'd think for minute that maybe the un- derstanding twinkle would come into his eyes again. But it never did.
 Sometimes it wasn't stars and moons. though, that he talked about. It was Boston, and Mother. Yes, he did. He talked a lot about Mother. As look back at it now, can see that he did He asked me all over again what she did, and about the parties, and the folks that came to see her. He asked again about Mir. Harlow, and about the concert, and the young man who played the violin,- and what was his name, and how old was he, and did like him. And then, right In the mid dle of some question, or rather, right in the middle of some answer I was giving him, he would suddenly remem- Der he was hearing my lessons, and he would say, Come, come, Mary what has this to do with your les sOns?"
 Just ss If was to blamel Gut. then, we women always get the blame I n0tice.l And then he'd attend strict " tD tue DtOhc lOi iAdspC uNC WUOic minutes-before he asked another question about that party, or the vio- linist.
 Naturally the lessons haven't amounted to much. as you can imagine But the term was nearly finished any way; and my real school Is in Boston, of course.
 It's vacation now. do hope that will amount to something!
 AUGUST FIRST.
 It hasn't, so far-I mean vacation. Really, what world of disappoint. ment this is! How on earth I'm go- ing to stand being Mary for three months more I don't know. But I've got to- suppose. I've been here May, June. and July; and that leaves Au- gust. September. and October yet to come. And when I think of Mother and Boston and Marie, and the darling good times down there where you're really wanted, l am simply crazy.
 If Father wanted me, really wanted me, I wouldn't care bit. I'd be will ing to be Mary six whole months. Yes, I'd be glad to. But he doesn't. TU just here by order of the court. And what can you do when you're noth- ing but a daughter by order of the cOurt2
 Since the lessons have stopped, Fathers gone back to his "Good-morn- ing, Mary" and Goodnight" and nothing else, day in and day out. Lately he's got so he hangs around the house an awful lot, too, so can't even do the things did the first of the month. mean that I'd been play ing some on the piano, along at the first, after school closed. Aunt Jane was out In the garden a lot, and Father out to the observatory, so l just reveled in pianOplaying till l found almost every time did it that he had come back, and was in the library with the door open. So l don't dare to play now.
 And there isn't blessed thing to do. Oh, I have to sew an hour, and now have to weed an hour, too :; and Aunt Jane tried to have me learn to cook; but Susie Gin the kitchen) fiatly refused to have me messing around" so Aunt Jane had to give that up. Susie's the one person Aunt Jane's afraid of, you see. She always threatens to leave if anything goes across her wishes. So Aunt Jane has Small next door that good hired girls were awfully scarce in Andersonyille.
 AS I said before, if only there was somebody here that wanted me. But there isn't. Of course Father doesn't. That goes without saying. And Aunt Jane doesn't. That goes, too, without saying. Carrie Haywood has gone away for all summer, so I can't have even her, and of course, 1 wouldn't associate with any of the other girls, even if they would associate with me which they won't.
 That leaves only Mothers letters. They are dear, and I love them. l don't know what I'd do without them. And yet, sometimes I think maybe they're worse than If l didn't have them. They make me so homesick. and 1 always cry so after l get them. Still, I know I just couldn't live a minute if t wasn't for Mothers let ters.
 Besides being so lonesome there's annther thing that worries me too ::