THE TILLAMOOK HEADLIGHT ¿MARY ¡MARIE J* Eleanor H. Porter ¿* Illustrations by % H. Livingstone 8YNOPSI8 PREFACE.—'Mary Marls" explains her ? parent "double personality" and Just >y she Is a “cross-current and a c ntra- •ctlon," she also tells her reasons t writing ths diary—later to be a novel. The •ary Is oonunencMd at AndersonvuU. _CHAlTh.l< L—Mary begins With Nurse grab’s account of her (Mary MrtX toblch seemingly Interested '.«r fatnsr who is a famous astronomer, ¡eas t-ian a B»w star which was discovered the earns Bight Her name Is a oaprorXe. her Bar wanted to call her vtoia and bar r Insisting on Abigail Jane. T" e quickly learned that her home wax me way different from those ot her friends, and was puxxle-l thereat t Sarah tells her of her mother's «tr­ et Andersonville ao a bride and b-ow aatonlshed they all were at the eight of the dainty olghteen-year old girl whom Ute sedate professor had chosen tor a wtfa CHAPTER II.—Coattnutais her etory. Xuree Sarah makes it plain why the household seemed a stranse one to the ehUd and bowher father and mother drifted apart through misunderstanding, •ach too proud to in any way attempt to smooth over the situation. vriArir.il til.-Mary tells of the time west” where the 'perfer Uy id genteel and reapectabl»“ being arranged for. and her her) unacountable behavior ourt's decree the child Is to epen 1 •lx months of the year with her mother and six months with her father. Boston is Mother’s home, and shs and Mary Isavs Andersonville for that oity to spend ute first six month». CHAPTER IY.-At Boston Mary be­ come! "Marls’* Rhe Is delighted with her Sew home, so different from the gloomy Bouse at Andersonville. The number of CnUemen who call on her mother leads r to speculate on the possibility of a Bow tether She classes the callers as “prospective suitors,” finally deciding the choice to to be between "the violinist" and a Mr. Harlow. A convsrsatlon shs »vsrhears between her mother and Mr Harlow convinces her that It will not be that gentleman, and "to violinist" ssems to be the likely man Mrs Andsrson rs- Mvss a letter from "Aunt Abigail Ander C, her former husband’s slstsr, whl Is ping house for him, reminding her that "Mary" to expected at Andersonville for •e six months she to te Spend with her father Her mother Is distressed, hut has nt? z”ernatlve. and "Marie” departs for Andersonville. CHAPTER V.—At Andersonville Aunt Jane meets her at the station. Her fa­ ther is away somewhere, etudylnr an eclipse of the moon Marte “Mary” now—Instinctively compares Aunt Jana, prim and severe, with tier beautiful, dainty mother, much to the former's disadvan­ tage Aunt Jane disapproves of the dain­ ty clothes which the child la wcarlns. and replaces them with "serviceable" eergee »nd thli k-coled shoes Her father arrives home and Haems surprised to see her. The child soon houlna to notice that the slrls at school seem to avoid her Her father appenrs Interested In the life Mrs. An- •eroon leads at Boston nnd neks many questions In a queer manner widen pussies Mary. Hhc finds out that her Schoolmates do not UHaoclate with Iter on account of Iter parents betn« divorced, »nd she refusea to attend school Anxrv »1 first, Mr Anderson, when he trains the reason for her determination, decides that she need not go. He will hear her lessons tn Atmt .lane's nnd her father’! absence Mary dres-- s In the pretty clothe» she brought from Boston and plays tha liveliest tunes she knows, on the little- used piano Then, overcome by her lone someness. she Indulges In n crying spell which her father’s unexpected appear ance Interrupts Hh. sobs out the story of her unhappiness, nnd In a clumsy way he comforts l or Vfter that he appe'tra to destre to make her stay mor*' plensnnt Her mother writes asking that Mary he alior.eit < - 1 • r -ston fo* the t.. l -I u nine >f th** - ' ■ <■ rm. and Mr An ter son • '** th 1 ' tro*n an expre*-. he lets * II Marv mdlevae he Is eorrv «h- • going anil he mid Motber played u whol« hour together. He's awfully htindaome. I think he's lovely. Oh, 1 do so hop« he's the one I Anyhow, I hope there's some one. I don’t want this novel to all fizzle out without there being tiny one to make It a love story ! Besides, a« I suld before. I'm particularly mix Ions thnt Mother shall timi somebody to marry her. so she’ll slop being di vorced, nnyvvay. A MONTH LATER Yes. I know It s been ages since I've written here In thia book ; but there just hasn't been a minute's time, First, of course, school t>«gnit, anil And. nt 1 had to attend to thnt. course, I had to tell the girls al' about Al 1 nvHle except the pint' I didn’t want to tell, about Stella May hew, und my coming out of school. I didn't tell that. And right here let tin say how glad I was to get back to till» School—a real school—so different train thnt one up in Andersonville! For that matter, everything's different iere from what it is in Andersonville t'd so much rather be Marte limit vlary. I know I won’t ever be Dr lekyll atid Mr. Hyde here. I'll be th« rood one all the time. It's funny how much easier It Is t« >e good In silk stockings mid a fluffy vhlte dress than It is In blue giiigltam nd calfskin. Oh. I’ll own up that larle forgets sometimes and say» Idngs Mary used to say; like calling Hga a hired girl Instead of a maid, a» ^utit Hattie wants mid saying «linnet Mrtead of luncheon nt noon, mid som« lher things. I heard Aunt lbittle tell Mother on« ay that It was going to take about is whole six months to breflk Mary tnrln of those outlandish country ays of hers. (Mo. yon see, it isn't al tuiey and pie even tor Marie. Thl« ■ylng to be Mary mid Marie, even al« ontlis apart. Isn't the easiest tldn» er was!) I don't think Mother like« very well—what Aunt Hattie aalf »out my outlandish ways I didn't 'ar all Mother said, but I knaw by c way she io*»ke«l anti act»«!, am! th« th* I did hear for that world ^outlandish'' applled't« violinist, T mean. Tut for my glory tiere~7TiTs^ makes Tl ■ brought it in to tne. She looked queer her little girl—not at all. They both want Mother. Anybody all the more romantic and thrilling. So • —a little. There were two red spots Mother’s a dear. And she’s so hap can see that now, and, of course. Moth that’s all right. In her cheeks, and her eyes were py! And, by the way, I think it is th« er sees It. But which she’ll take I Of course, so far, rm the only one ! very bright. violinist. He’s here a lot, and she’t don’t know, Nobody knows. It's per that knows, for I haven’t told It, and “I think you have a letter here from out with him to concerts and plnys fectly plain to be seen, though, which I'm the only one that's seen anything. —your father," she said, handing it and riding In his automobile. Ant! one Grandfather and Aunt Hattie want Of course, I shall warn Mother, if 1 out. she iilw ays puts on her prettiest her to take! It’s Mr. Easterbrook. think It's necessary, a<> she'll under­ She hesitated before the “your fa dresses, and she’s very partlculai And he is awfully nice. He brought stand it isn't her, but Theresa, that the ther” just as she always does. And about her slim's, and her huts, that violinist is really In love with and court ­ ’t Isn’t hardly ever that she mentions they’re becoming, and all that. Oh, I’n me a perfectly beautiful bracelet the so excited! And I'm having such » other day—but Mother wouldn't let me ing. She won't mind, I’m sure, after she his name, anyway. But when she does, good time watching them! Oh, I don*! keep it. So he had to take it back. thinks of it n minute. And won't it be she always stops a funny little minute mean watching them in a dlsugreeabl« I don’t think he liked It very well, and a good Joke on Aunt Hattie and Grand­ before it, Just as she did today. way, so that they see it; nnd, o' I didn't like It, either. I wanted that father when they find out they’ve been I could see she was wondering what course, I have to get all I can—for th« bracelet. But Mother says I’m much fooled all the time, supposing it’s could be In It. But I guess she wasn't book, you know; and, of course, If ! too young to wear much jewelry. Oh. Mother, and worrying about it? wondering any more than I was, only Oh, I don’t know! This is some Just happen to be In the window-sea1 will the time ever come when I’ll be I was gladder to get It than she was. love story, after all ! corner in the library and hear thlngi old enough to take my proper place In I suppose. Anyhow, when she saw the world? Sometimes It seems as If accidentally, why, that's all right. how glad I was, and how I Jumped for TWO DAYS LATER It never would! And I have heard things. the letter, she drew back, and looked Well, as 1 said. It's plain to be seen What do you suppose has happened somehow as If she’d been hurt, and He says her eyes are lovely, H« likes her b«-st in blue. He’s very lone who it Is that Grandfather and Aunt now? Why, that wretched violinist is said: ly, and he never found a woman be Hattie favor; but I'm not so sure about nothing but a deep-dyed villain! Lis­ “I did not know, Marie, that a letter for«' who really understood hint. 11« Mother. Mother acts funny. Some­ ten what he did. He proposed to from—your father would mean so thinks her soul and his are tuned t< times she won't go with either of them Mother—actually proposed to her—and much to you.” the same string. (Oh, dear! Tha anywhere ; then she seems to want t< after all he'd said to that Theresa girl, I don't know what I did say to that, sounds funny and horrid, nnd not a go all the time. And she acts as if about hfs being perfectly happy if he I guess I didn’t say anything. I'd al- all the way It did when he said It. I she didn't care which she went with could marry her. And Mother—Moth­ ready begun to read the letter, and 1 was beautiful then. But—well, tha' so long as she was Just going—some er all the time not knowing! Oh, I'm was tn such a hurry to find out what where. I think, though, she really like! so glad I was thereto rescue her! I he'd said. Is what it meant, anyway.) he violinist the best; nnd I guest- don’t mean at the proposal—I didn’t She told him she was lonely, too I’U copy It here. It wasn't long. and that she «u very glad to hav< Grandfather and Aunt Hattie think so hear that. Rut afterward. It was like this: him for a friend; and he said he prize« too. It was like this: “Aly Dear Mary» Tney nad been out automobillng— Something happened last night tier friendship above everything else it “Some way Christmas has made me trrannramer negnn to rnnt ar me mn- Mother and the violinist. I was In my the world. And he looks at her, am think of you. I wish I had sent you Mlews her UMB* th»- rtNMD with his ner table. He'd heard something he favorite window-seat, reading, when some gift. Yet I have not’ the slightest •y ea . ami I she blushes up real pink didn’t like about the violinist, I guess, they came home and walked into the idea what would please you. To tell tots of times when he comes and he started in to tell Mother. But library. They never looked my way the truth, I tried to find something— they stopped him. Mother and Aunt at all, but just walked toward the flre­ «Çi> the •otn. but had to give it up. No w. If that isn't making love to Hattie looked at him and then at me, place. And there he took hold of both "I am wondering if you had a good and then back to him, In their most her hands and said : •other, >, I don't know what is. I’m time, and what you did. After all, I’m see-who ’ s-here I — you mustn ’ t-talk-be- "Why must you wait, darling? Why >ure he’s i going to propose. Ob, I’m fore-her way. So he shrugged his can’t you give me my answer now, and pretty sure you did have a good time, -o excite«!! for you are Marie now. You see, I make me the happiest man In all the Oh. yes. I know if he does propose shoulders and stopped. have not forgotten how tired you got But I guess he told them In the li ­ world? ’ ’ and she says yes, he'll be my new fa- of being—Mary. Well, well, I do not “Yes, yes, I know,” answered Moth­ ther. I understand that, And, of brary afterwards, for I heard them all know as I can blame you. talking very excitedly, and some loud ; er; and I knew by her voice that she course, I can’t help wondering how “And now that I have asked what I'll like ft- Sometimes I think I won’t and I guess Mother didn't like what was all shaky and frembly. “But If I you did for Christmas, I suspect it is they said, and got quite angry, for I could only be sure — sure of myself." like It at all. Sometimes I alpiost "But, dearest, you’re sure of me!" no more than a fair turnabout to tell catch myself wishing that I didn't have heard her say, when she came out through the door, that she didn’t be- cried the Violinist. “You know how I you what I did. I suppose I had a very to have any new father or mother, I’d good time. Your Aunt Jane says I never need a new mother, anyway, and lieve a word of It, and she thought It did. I heard her telling one of the was a wicked, cruel shame to tell I wouldn't need a new father If my neighbors that last night. She had a stories like that just because they father-by-order-of-the-court would be very fine dinner, and she Invited Mrs. as nice as he was there two or three didn’t like a man, Darling and Miss Snow and Miss San- This morning she broke an engage ­ times in the observatory. born to eat It with us. She said she But, there! After all, I must remem- ment with Mr. Easterbrook to go auto- didn’t want me fo feel lonesome. But ridlng and went with the violinist to her that I’m not the one that’s doing you can feel real lonesome in a crowd the choosing, It's Mother. And If she a morning musicale instead; and after sometimes. Did you know that, Mary? she ’ d gone Aunt Hattie sighed and wants the violinist I mustn't have any­ “But I left them to their chatter aft­ thing to say. Besides, I really like him looked at Grandfather and shrugged er dinner and went out to the observa­ her shoulders, and said she was afraid very much, anyway. He's the best of tory. I think I must have fallen asleep the lot. I’m sure of that. And that's they’d driven her straight into the on the couch there, for It was quite arms of the one they wanted to avoid, something. And then, of course, I’m dark when I awoke. But I didn’t mind and that Madge always would take glad to have something to make this a that, for there were some observations the part of the under dog. love story, and best of all I would be I wanted to take. It was a beautifully I suppose they thought I wouldn't glad to have Mother stop being <11- clear night, so I stayed there till near­ understand. But perfectly, I did, vorced, anyway. ly morning. Mr. Harlow doesn’t come here any They meant that by telling stories “How about It? I suppose Marte about the violinist hoping they'd been mor», ■' mesa Anyway, I haven't »cac plRrs the pfnno every day. now. doesn’t him here once since I came back ; and to got her tn give him up, but Instead she? The piano here hasn’t been I haven’t heard anybody mention his of that, they'd made her turn to him touched since you went away, Oh. was so all the more, just because she name. yes, it was touched once, Your aunt sorry for him. Quite a lot of the others are here, played hymns on ft for a missionary Funny, Isn't It? and there are some new ones. But the meeting. violinist Is here most, and Mother ONE WEEK LATER “Well, what dlrl you do Christmas? seems to go out with him most to Suppose you write and tell places. That's why I say I think it's Well, I guess now something has “Your Father.” the vl«>llnist. happened all right! And let me say 1 haven't heard from Father. right away thnt I don’t like that violin­ I'd been reading the letter out loud, Now Jus’t my writing that down that ist now, either, any better than Grand­ and when I got through Mother was way siiows that I expected to hear father mid Aunt Hattie. And it's not pacing up and down the room. For from him, though I don't really see entirely because of what happened lust a minute she didn’t say anything; then why I should, either. Of course, he night, either. It's been coming on for she whirled 'round suddenly and faced never has written to me; and, of a while—ever since I first saw him me, and said, Just as If something in­ course, I understand tluit I'm nothing talking to Theresa In the hall when side of her was making her say it: 'Why Must You Walt, Darling?" but his daughter by order of the court. she let him in one night a week ago. “I notice there is no mention of Hut, some way, I did think maybe he’d Theresa Is awfully pretty, and 1 your mother in that letter, Marie. 1 You know you ’ re the only love you. write me just a little bit of n note In guess he tlilnks so. Anyhow, I heard suppose—your father has quite forgot­ answer to mine—m.v bread and butter him telling tier so In the hall, mid she woman I have ever loved, or ever could ten that there is such a person In the love I ” letter, I mean; for, of course, Mother laughed anil blushed mid looked side- world as—I." Yes, just like that he said it—thnt had me write that to him as soon ns wavs at him. Then they saw me. and But I told her no, oh, no. and that awful lie — and to my mother. M.v I got here. he stiffened up and said, very proper I was sure he remembered her. for he suppose I walled to stars ! T>o you Rut he hasn’t. mid dignified, "Kindly hand m.v card used to ask me questions often about I wonder how he’s getting along, nnd to Mrs. Anderson." And Theresa said. hear any more? I guess not ! what she did, and the violinist and all I fairly tumbled off my seat, and If he misses tne any. But, of course, "Yes, sir." And she was very proper “The violinist!” cried Mother, whirl my book dropped with a bang, as 1 lie doesn't do that. If I was a star, mid dignified, too. Ing around on me again. (She'd lie now— I Well, four days ago I saw them ran forward. Dear, dear, but how they gun to walk up and down once more.) iignln. He tried to put his arm around did jump—both of them! And I guess “You don't mean to say you ever told TWO DAYS AFTER THANKSGIVING her tluit time, mid the very next day they were surprised, I never thought your father about him!” how't was going to affect them—my The violinist lias got n rival. I'm lie tried to kiss her, mid after a min “Oh, no, not everything." I explained I didn't sure lie tins. It’s Mr. Ensterbrook. ute she let him. More than once, too breaking in like that, started trying to show how patient I was, so wait—not a minute, And hist nlglit I heard him tell her He's old much a» forty and bald- And ! she would be patient, too. (But It headed and fat, and lias got lots of she was the dearest girl tn all the right tn and began tc didn't work.) “I couldn't tell him tnlked hard and fast, a of It. money. And lie's a ery estlnuible world, mid he'd be perfectly luippy If everything hetause everything hadn't I don't know now w num. (I heard Aunt Hattie nay that.) he could only marry her. happened then. Hut I told about his Well, you can Imagine how I felt, I know I asked him what he meant by being here, nnd about the others, too; lie's awfully Jolly, and 1 like him. He saying such iin awful lie to my mother, brings me the loveliest boxes of candy, when I thought all the time It was but. of course, I said I didn't know and calls me Buss (1 don't like that, Mother he was coming to see I And when he’d Just said the same thing, which you'd tnke, and—” partleulnrly. I'd prefer him to cull now to find out that It was Theresa he exactly 'most, to Theresa, and he'd “You told him von didn't know which me Miss Anderson.) He's not nearly wanted nil the time, mid lit' was only hugged her and kissed her. nnd every­ I'd tnke!" gasped -Mother. thing. - I'd seen him. And — so good looking na the violinist. The coming to see Mother so he could see Just like thnt she interrupted, and But 1 didn't get n chance to say half violinist Is lots more thrilling, but I Theresa ! she looked so shocked. Then «he b shouldn’t wonder If Mr. Ensterbrook At first, 1 was angry—Just plain an­ I wanted to. 1 was going on to tell gan to walk again, up and down, up a ns *re comfortaWe to live with, gry ; and 1 was frightened. Joo. for 1 him what I thought of him; but Moth­ and down. Then, nil of a sudden, she The violinist Is the kind of n man couldn't help worrying about Mother— er gasped out. "Marie! Marie! Stop!" And then I stopped, 1 had »to, of flung herself on the couch and began that makes you want tn alt up nnd for four she would mind, you know, to cry and sob as If her heart would take notice, nnd have your linlr nnd when she found out that It was The­ course. Then she said that would do, break. And when I tried to comfort linger nulls nnd shoes Just right; but resa that lie cured for, after nil. I and I might go to my room. And I her, I only sfemol to make It worse, with Mr. Enatei’bi’uok you wouldn't remembered what a lot Mother had w ent. And that’s nil I know aboyt It, for she threw her arms around me inlnd a bit silting Hi a big chair be­ ber<»<>k sides, there's Mr. Easterbrook left lots better than she does the violinist. (und one or two others that I haven't away with a never-wlll I-darken-thls- want you every minute; but I have I lieurtl her talking to Mother one day. said much about, as I didn't think they door-again kind of step, just as far as to give you up—six whole mouths o< I could see him. every year 1 have to give ye up t had much chance.) And ao far ns the ONE WEEK LATER I don't know, of course, what will him. And he's your father. Mari. love story for the book Is concerned, happen next, nor whether he'll ever And he's a gvoci man. 1 knot There hasn’t much liapixned—only that Isn't spoiled, after all. for It will come back for Theresa ; but 1 shouldn’t good man. 1 know it all th lw ever so mneh more exciting to have on« or two things. Hut maybe I'd bet think even she would want him. after now since I’ve seeu - other m» ter t«»ll them hefurw I forget It, e«|a» the violinist fall in love with There»« 1 ought to tell you to I«.« u. thia. If she found ont. dally ns they iiuve n good d«*al to do Ilian with Mother, for. of course. Ther­ And now, where’s my love story com­ I'm so afraid—you'll love bin better with the love part of the story And esa Isn't In the ame station of life at titan you do ma. and want to ear»-- It a—a me»»-jlll* ing In. I should like to know? I'm always »" gliid to get anything of all. and thnt me. And I can't give you up! I can't er exactly what TWO DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS e. (I don’t that kind I've been so nfrnld this give you up!“ an al- vorvl wouldn't be much of a levs story, afte Then 1 tried to v th all. 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