Page Six 1 HE TILLAMOOK HEADLIGHT Jjyfox.’ July 7tl Rut I wns surprised that night to to heal, to cure! How I thrilled at the In h.-r gali.-py ,,f - thing; but nobody minds Aunt Hat­ why It made so great an Impression This was the condition of things tie.) have Mother say I could go. for rd thought of the love aud compunionship »• upon me. It was a very quiet wed­ when I entered si hool that fall, ¡fnd And, us I said before, it is ull per­ ding, of course—Just the members of perhaps for a w< ?ek thereafter. Then about given ud hope, after all that I could give him somewhere in u rose- brother there. embowered cottage far from the mud- fectly wonderful. the family present. But I shall never one day, very st iddenly, and without talk at the I ding crowd! .(He bourded ut the -An­ I soon , So it’s all settled, and they’re going forget the fine, sweet loveliness of apparent reason, li invoke to the fact said somethin dersonville hotel alone now.) If only right away on this trip und call ft a Mother’s face, nor the splendid of my existence. C. ndy, flowers, books too. She said 'd . ; ■■ t she si avs he e»>uJi* see 1! ss I saw H. !f milf by wedding trip. And, ut course, Grand­ sUreugth aud teudernea» <*t katUsr’"- I —some one of the--» ■ he brought to me Mayhew her friends of her some sign or token he could kuow of one in me. H father had to get off bls Joke about ! And the way he drew her into his urrns every morning. All »luring the school wanted to k » old me to ask the warm love that was his but for how he thought it was u pretty dan­ and kissed her, after It was all over— day he was my devoted gallant, danc­ little girl. A Jerry w ns an ,, gerous business; und to see that this i well, I remember distinctly that even ing attendance every possible minute him to call tl next t enlng and play the asking! Could he not see that no longer need he pine alone and unap­ ready he laid .. a, honeymoon didn’t go Into un eclipse . Aunt Hattie choked up and hud to outside of session hours, and walking checkers or c ess witl me. while they were wutehlng the other turn her back to wipe her eyes. home with me in the afternoon, Happy? I could i-arcely contain preciated in the Andersonville hotel? one. liut nobody minds Grandfather. They went away at once, first to proudly carrying my books. Dl»l I say myself for joy. And when the next Why, In just u few weeks I was to a I’m to stay here and finish school. I New York for a day or two, then to “home with me"? That is not strictly evening came, bringing Paul, and be through school. And then— Helen told me . Then, In the spring, when Father and Andersonville, to prepare for the reul true—he always stopped Just one Mother, all prettily dressed as if lie On the night before commencement the Mother come buck, we ure ull to go to wedding trip to the other side of the hlock ;li.. . home"—one block were really, truly company, came Into Mr. Harold Hartshorn ascended our just lmd Andersonville nnd begin to live In the world. I stayed in Boston at school. the room and talked so lienutifully to front steps, rang the bell, and called New York old house again. In the spring, when Father and him, I was even more entranced. To for my father. I knew because I was that It was just goh Won’t It be lovely? It Just seems Mother returned, and wT all went back be sure, It did bother me a Uttle that upstairs in my room over the front that lit..... too good to be true. Why, I don't care to Andersonville, there followed a long Paul laughed so much, and so loudly, door; and I saw him come up the walk now—anything. u bit now whether I'm Mary or Marie. period of Just happy girlhood, and I and that he couldn't seem to find any­ aud heard him ask for Father. I saw Jerry But, then, nobody else does, either. In suspect I was too satisfied und huppy Oh, Joy ! Oh, happy day ! He knew. er vacation of ,1;,| ,.ar thing to talk about only himself, and fact, both of them call me the whole to think of writing. After all, I've no­ t',, _ what he was doing, mid what he was He had seen It as I saw it. He had lege. Helen invit. qame now, Mary Marie. I don’t think ticed it's when we're sad or troubled ■ going to do. Some way, he had never come to gain Father's permission, that with her, tin»! A! they ever said they would, They Just over something that we have that tin­ ). - seemed like that nt school. And I he might be a duly accredited suitor might go. Helen began to do It. That’s all. gling to cover perfectly good white me for the was afraid Mother wouldn't like that. for my hand! How about this being u love story paper with “confessions” and “stories During the next ecstatic ten min­ Mother and Father All the evening I was watching and now? Oh, I'm so excited I of my life.” As witness right now what ... listening with her eyes and her ears utes. with my hand pressed against my much. There was tm h, . I’m doing. everything he did, everything he said. wildly beating heart, I planned my fore, In their cons.-tit that I CHAPTER IX. I had Just passed my sixteenth birth­ , [ I so wanted Mother to like him! I so wedding dress, selected with care and *isit Helen at Easier day when we all came back to live In wanted Mother to see how really fine I discrimination my trousseau, furnished Helen lived In New York. Which I« the Test. Andersonville. For the first few and splendid and noble he was. But the rose-embowered cottage far from home was a Fifth a\. months I suspect that Just the glory that evening—Why couldn’t he stop the madding crowd — and wondered nine servants, four :t . S^H| ANDER80NVILLE. TWELVE YEARS and the wonder and Joy of living In talking about the prizes he’d won, why Father did not send for me. Then two chauffeurs. Naturally sudi a LATER the old home, with Father and Mother and the big racing car he’d just or­ the slam of the screen door downstairs of living was entirely new to tae^^H Twelve yeura—yes. And I’m twenty- happy together, was enough to fill all dered for next summer? There was sent me to the window, a sickening correspondingly fascinating. nothing fine and splendid and noble terror within me. eight yeura old. Pretty old, little Mary my thoughts. Then, as school begnn elaborately uniformed footman Marie of the long ago would think. In the fall, I came down to normal liv­ about that. And were his finger nail* Was he going—without seeing me, opened the door for me to the And, well, perhaps today I feel Just ing again, and became a girl—Just a always so dirty? his future bride? Impossible! some French maid who ''lid" m.v growing girl In her teens. as old us she would put it. Why, Mother would think— Father and Mr. Harold Hartshorn I adored them all, am! moved ns How patient Mother was, and Fath­ I came up Into the attic this morn­ Mother did not stay In the room all stood on the front steps below, talking. dream of enchantment. Then ing to puck away some things I shall er, too! I can see how gently and the time; but she was in more or less In another minute Mr. Harold Harts­ Jerry home from a week-end's tt^^B no longer need, now that I urn going tactfully they helped me over the often to watch the game; and at half­ horn had walked away, and Father nnd I forgot everything else. to leave Jerry. (Jerry Is my husband.) stones and stumbling-blocks that strew past nine she brought in some little had turned back on to the piazza. I knew from the minute his And in the bottnxp of my little trunk the pathway of every slxteen-year-old cakes and lemonade as a surprise. I As soon as I could control my shak­ looked into mine that «hatever 1 I found this manuscript. 1 hud forgot­ girl who thinks, because she has thought it was lovely; but I could ing knees, I went downstairs. been before, I was now certalnl.v^B ten thut such a thing existed; but with turned down her dresses and turned have shaken Paul when he pretended I Father was in his favorite rocklng- mere “Oh, some friend of ileien's^M up her hair, that she Is grown up, and its laboriously written pages before to be afraid of It, and asked Mother chair. I advanced slowly. I dld not was (so his eyes said) "a deuc^M me, it ul! came back to me; and I be­ can do and think and talk as she if there was a stick in It. sit down. pretty girl, and one well worth gun to read; here u sentence; there a pleases. The Idea—Mother I A stick! "Was that Mr. Hartshorn?" I asked, tlvnting." Whereupon he began It was that winter that I went paragraph; somewhere else a page. I Just knew Mother wouldn’t like trying to keep the shake out of my once to do the "cultivating.” Then, with a little half laugh and a through the morbid period. Like our All During the 8chool Day He Was My I that. But If she didn’t, she never voice. In less than thirty six hours I Devoted Gallant half sob, I carried It to an old rocking- childhood's measles and whooping showed a thing In her face. She just "Yes.” caught up In the whirlwind of chair by the cobwebby dormer window, cough, It seems to come to most of short of my gate, He evidently had smiled, and said no, there wasn’t any “Mr. H-Hartshorn,” I repeated stu- wooing, and would not have es»a^H and settled myself to read it straight us—us women children. I wonder pot forgotten Aunt jane, and did not stick in it; and passed the cakes. It if I could. ■ pidly. why? Certainly It came to me. True through. When he had gone. I remember I "Yes. He came to see me about the When I went back to college he intend to take any foolish risks 1 So to type I cried by the hour over fan- I And I have reud it. he said good-by to me always at a didn’t like to meet Mother's eyes, and Downer place,” nodded Father. "He my promise that If he could gain t^H Poor little Mary Marie I Dear little cled slights from my schoolmates, and i safe distance. I didn't ask her how she liked Paul wants to rent It for next year." consent of Father and Mother. M At Exactly Tan o’olook He Came Up Mary Marie I To meet you like this, brooded days at a time because Fath- | Mayhew. I kept right on talking fast “To rent it—the Downer place!” (The might put the engagement ring on t^H Tills went on for perhaps a week. the Step» of ths Hous* Hara, but He to share with you your Joys and sor- er or Mother “didn’t understand." I I about something else. Some way, I Downer place was no rose-embowered finger. t H Then he asked me to attend a school Didn’t Ring the Bell. rows, hopes and despalrs, of those questioned everything In the earth j sleigh-ride and supper with him. didn’t want Mother to talk then, for cottage far from the madding crowd 1 Back at college, alone In my o^j the heavens above; and beneath and Why, it was big, and brick, and right room. I drew a long brenth, and bega| I was wild with delight. At the fear of what she would say. Wo sura of Mother, but I knew It was years, long ago, is like sitting hand In In my dark despair over an averted hand on a sofa with a childhood's And Mother didn't say anything next to the hotel! I didn't want to to think. It was the first chance I hM Saturday, and I believed I could min- glance from my most Intimate friend, same time I waa wild with apprehen­ had, for even Helen now had beconB M* somehow to keep her here with friend, each listening to an euger "And I meditated on whether life was, or sion. I awoke suddenly to the fact about Paul Mayhew—then. But only a live there.) “Yes—for his wife and family. He's Jerry—by reflection. me, so that everything would he all do you remember?" falling constantly was not, worth the living, with a pre- of the existence of Father and Mother, few days later she told me to in­ a from delighted lips that cannot seem and that their permission must be vite him again to the house (this time going to bring them back with him right there. The more I thought, th« more frlgbfl ponderance toward the latter. to talk half fast enough. to a chafing-dish supper), and to ask gained. And I had my doubts—I had next year," explained Father. I did It, and five minutes before ten ened, dismayed, and despairing I bgl Mother—dear mother!—looked on very grave doubts. Yet it seemed to Carrie Heywood and Fred Small, too. It was almost dark when I had fin­ “His wife and family!” I can Imag­ came. In the clear llrht of calm, unfl she was sitting quietly sewing In her my aghast. She feared, I think for We had a beautiful time, only again ine about how I gasped out those four reasoning, it was all so absurd, ao Ima i me at that moment that I Just had to own room. Then I went downstairs to ished the manuscript. It was written on the top sheet of a still thick pad life; certainly for my sanity and go on that slelgh-rlde. That it was Pau! Mayhew didn’t “show off" at all words. watch for Father. possible! What could I have beeia morals. the only thing In the whole wide world In the way I wanted him to—though "Yes. He has five children, I be­ thinking of? I must forget Jerry. He came Just on the dot, and I let of paper, and my fingers fairly tingled ‘ It was Father who came to the ses- worth while. suddenly, to go on and cover those he most emphatically “ showed off" In lieve, and—" I pictured him in Andersonville, lol him In and took him Into the library. He pooh-poohed Mother ’ s fears: cue. white sheets—tell what bap I can remember now, as If it were his way! It seemed to me that he But I had fled to my room. my own home. I tried to picture hlml Then I went unatalra and told Meth«* unused ■ waa Mlgeetle» that sBed sea, an* After *!?, my recovery was rapid. T faftfng to Father, to Mother. • ere was some one downstairs who yrned aex?—tert rhe rest rtf rt»e story; or that I was growing too fast; or per­ ' yesterday, file tray T debated fn m.v bragged rvsw mor» nlNvwt not for the sake of the story — but for his belongings than he had before, was in love with love, you see; not mind as to whether I should ask wanted to see her. Absurd, What had Jerry to do wltfl my sake. It might help me. It might haps I didn't get enough sleep, or And I didn't like at all the way he And she said, bow funny, and wasn't make things clearer. It might help to needed, maybe, a good tonic. He took Father, Mother, or both together; and ate his food. Why, Father didn't eat with Mr. Harold Hartshorn. Besides, learned treatises on stars, or with the! there any name, and where was the Justify myself In my own eyes. Not me out of school, and made It a point If I should let It be seen how greatly like that—with such a noisy mouth, the next year I went to college. And humdrum, everyday life of a stupid, maid. But I didn't seem to hear. I that I have any doubts, of course to accompany me on long walks. He I desired to go, and how much it meant and such a rattling of the silverware! It was while I was at college that I small town? For that matter, what met Jerry. to me; or if I should Just mention It bad gone into my room In quite a hur- (about leaving g Jerry, I rneun). rneun), but that talked with me—not to me—about the as In passing, and take their permis­ And so It went—wise mother that , Jerry was the brother of my college had Father and Mother to do with ,yy, as if I had forgotten something I when I saw it dancing and motoring and painting birds and the trees and the sunsets, she was ! Far from prohibiting me to .. In I.. black L‘ and white 1 * friend, Helen Weston. Helen's elder society queens' portraits? Nothing. s wanted to do there. But, of course, I could be even more convinced that I and then about the deeper things of sion practically for granted. I chose the latter course, and I took ! have anything to do with Paul May- I sister was a senior In that same col­ Plainly, even if Jerry, for the sake didn't 0«> a thing—except to make sure was doing what was best for him and life, until, before I realized It, I was a time when they were both together. hew, she let me see all I wanted to lege, and was graduated at the close that she went downstairs to the li­ best for me. sane nnd sensible once more, serene At the breakfast table I mentioned 1 of him, particularly In my own home. of my freshman year. The father, of the daughter, liked Father and Mother, Father and Mother certainly brary. Bo I brought the manuscript down nnd happy In the simple faith of my casually that the school wns to have I She let me go out with him. properly mother and brother came on to the would not like Jerry. That was cer- *• They’re there now together. And to my own room, and this evening I childhood, a slelgh-rlde and supper the next Fri­ ■ chaperoned, and she never, by word graduation. And that Is where I met tain. he's been here a whole hour already. have commenced to write. I can’t fin­ I was seventeen, if I remember right­ . or manner, hinted that she didn’t ad- Jerry. Of course I cried myself to 'leep Seems as If he ought to say something ish It tonight, of course. But I have ly, when I became worried, not over day afternoon and evening, and that ! mire his conceit and braggadocio. Paul Mayhew had asked me to go with If It might be called meeting him. that night. That was to be expected. In that length of time! m.v heavenly estate now, but my earth ­ tomorrow, and still tomorrow. (I have And it all came out exactly as I He lifted his hat, bowed, said a polite him. Jerry^was the world; and the world After I was sure Mother was down, ly »ne. I must have a career, of "A slelgh-rlde, supper, I and not suspect she had planned from the be­ nothing with his lips, and an indiffer­ wns lost. There was nothing left ex­ r took out this, mid began to write In course. No namby-pamby everyday liv­ come home until evening?’’ cried ginning. When Paul Mayhew asked to ent “Oh, some friend of Helen's,” with It. And I've been writing ever since. ing of dishes anil dusting nnd meals Mother. “And with i whom, did you be my escort to the class reception In his eyes, nnd turned to a radiant cept, perhaps, a few remnants and pieces, scarcely worth the counting— But, oh, I do so wonder what's going and bnble« for me. It «a« all very say ?’’ June, I declined with thanks, and Im­ blonde senior nt my side. excepting, of course, Father and Moth­ yn down there. I’m so excited over— well, of course, for some people. Such "Paul Mayhew,” I answered. I stHI mediately afterward told Fred Small And that wns all—for him. But for er. But one could not always have things had to be. But for m I would go with him. But even when me — the same tried to speak casually; at one’s rather and mother. There would ONE WEEK LATER T could write, of course, blit I was time I tried to indicate by voice and I told Mother nonchalantly, and with All that day I watched him when­ come n time when— carefully averted eyes, that I «ni go ­ not sure but that I preferred the stage. manner something of the great honor At Just (lint minute Mother came In- ever opportunity offered; and I suspect Jerry's letter came the next lay­ At the same time there wns within mo that had been bestowed upon their ing to the reception with Fred Small that I took care that opportunity of­ to the r«a«in. I wish you could have by special delivery. He hail g ne ns of a call to go out — even then her pleasant “ Well, that's a deep stirring daughter. . but she looked keen her. My stnrs, fered frequently. I was fascinated. 1 straight home from the station ni d be­ nnd enlighten the world, especially Father was impressed—plainly Im­ good!” conveyed only cheery mother had never seen any one like him be­ gun to write to me. (How Ilk- Terry pretty I— with her shilling eyes and the Interest ; nor did that portion of I It tn darkest Africa or a hasty glance into pressed ; but not a ail In the way 1 lovely pink In her cheeks. And young 1 fore. Tan. handsome, brilliant, at per that was—particularly the <»-»'lal- deadliest India. T would be a mlsslon- had hope»! he would be. He gave me her face discover so much as a lifted feet ease, he plainly dominated every delivery stamp!) The most of I i- let­ Honestly, I believe she looked younget eyebrow to hint, ary. "I thought you ’ d a swift, sharp glqnce; then looked than I did that minute. group of which he was a part. Toward ter, aside from the usual lover - hup- come to your senses sometimeI” Before I was eighteen, however. I straight at Mother. She Just came and put her arms sodfes. had to do with plans fo 'he nil this. Father put had abandoned Wise little mother that she was! "Humph! Paul Mayhew! Yes, I around me and kissed me. and I saw summer —what we would d»» together his foot 'down linrd on the missionary know him,” he saiiL grimly. “And I’m In the days and weeks that followed then that her eyes wore all misty with at the Westons' summer cot' in project, and Mother put tiers down on Into he comes dreading the time when (though nothing was said) I detected tears, She didn't any a word, hardly, Newport. He said he should rv up the stHge Idea I didn't tnlnd so much, college next year. ” a subtle change in certain matters. only that Father wanted to see to Andersonville early — very etirly; though, as I remember, for on further I “You mean—” Mother hesitated and however. And as 1 look back at It and I was to go right down. Just as soon as I was back from col­ study aud consideration I found that now, I am sure I can trace its origin to stopped. And I went. lege, In fact, so that he might meet flowers and applause were not all of the company m.v "affair ” with Paul Mayhew. Evi ­ “ I mean I don't like I thought, of course, that she Father and Mother, and put that ring an actor's life, and that Africa and he keeps—already." malded'Father. dently Mother had no intention of run­ coming, too. But she didn't. on my finger. India were not entirely desirable ns a "Then you don't think that Mary ning the risk of any more courtships; when I got down the stairs I found I And while I read the letter, I Ju«t place of residence for a young woman Marie—” Mother hesitated again, and also ev Idently she intended to know was all alone; but I went right on Into knew he would do It. Why. I could alone. Besides, I had decided bv then glanced at me. who my friends were. At all events, the library, and there was Father even see the sparkle of the ring on that I could enlighten the world Just “Certainly not,” said Father de- the old Anderson mansion soon be- waiting for me. my finger. But In five minutes after as effectually (and much more com­ cldedly. entne the rendezvous of all the boys lie didn't say much, either, nt first; the letter was folded and put away, fortably) by writing stories at home I knew thdn, of course, that he and girls of my acquaintance. And but Just like Mother lie put his arms I knew, with equal certitude—that he and getting them printed. on the sleigh ride. such good times as we had, with meant I couldn't go around me and kissed me. and held me Wouldn't. So I wrote stories —but I did not get even though he hadn't said the words Mother always one of us, and ever pro­ there. Then, very soon. he liegnn to I had been at home exactly eight any of them printed In spite of my earn­ right •>ut. I forgot all about being posing something new and Interesting! talk ; and, oh, he said such beautiful hours when a telegram from Jerry est efforts. In time, therefore that Idea, casual and Indifferent and matter-of- And because boys — not a boy, but things such tender, lovely, sacred asked permission to come at one? also, was abandoned; and with It. re- course then. I thought only (of show­ boys—wera as free to come to the things; too sacred oven to write down As gently as I could I hrok» 'he I gretfully, the Idea of enlklitenlng the ing them how absolutely, necessary it house as were girls, they soon seemed here. Then tie kissed me again nnd news to Father anu Mother. He was world at all. wns for them to let me go on that to me as commonplace and matter-of- And ths Way He Drew Her Into Hie went away. Helen's brother. They must' have Besides, I had Just then (again If I sleigh rble, unless they wanti'd my course and free from sentimental In­ Arms and Kissed Her. But he came back thegiext day, and heard m? mention him. I knew him remember rightfully) fallen In love. life forevermore hopelessly blighted terest as were the girls. he's been here some part of every da? well, very well. Im.eed, In fact the Not that tt was the first time. Oh. Again. »vl«e little mother! I explained carefully how he wns since. Ami, <*b, what a wonderful purpose of this visit was to ask them no, not at eighteen, when at thirteen the handsomest, most popular boy In But, of course, even this did not week It has been I for the hand of their daughter. I had begun confidently and happily to school, and how all the girls were Just prevent thy falling In love ivlth some They're going to be married It's Father frowned ana scolded, and took for It! What a sentimental little craiy to be asked to go anywhere one older than myself, some one quite tomorrow. They'd have been married said. “TuL tut!" and that I was noth- ple-’e I was! How conM they have with him ; and I argued what If Fath­ outside of my own circle of Intimates. right nwny at the first, only they had Ing hut a child. But Mother smiled been so patient with me—Father, er had seen him with boys he did not M.v especial attack of this kind to wait—something about licenses and and shook her head, even while she Mother, everybody! like—then that da» all the more rea­ cam« to me when I was barely eigh­ 1 a five day notice. Mother said Father sighed, and remlnde»! him that I was I'm sorry I think the first real attack—the son why nice girls like me. when he teen. the spring I was being gradu­ fussed and fumed, and wanted to try twenty—two whole years older than She doesn't first that I consciously called love, asked them should go with him, so a» ate! from the Andersonville High for u s|H*clal dl»|ten»atlon. or some she was « hen she married hit«; her. Nobody myself—was the winter after we had to keep him away from bad boys. An>1 school. And the visible embodiment thing; but Mother laughed, mid said thougti in the same breath she ad­ himself—yet all come back to Andersonville to live. I reminded them again that he was of my adoration was the head master. certainly not. and that she guessed It They nil think Pm Just making a visit I was sixteen ami In the high school the very handsomest. most popular Mr. Harold Hartshorn, a handsome, mitted that 1 was young, and she cer­ was Just as well, for she positively had to Mother—and I aim till I »rite thin Jerry Was an Artist, IT Seemed. tainly hoped Pd be willing to wait be­ It was Paul Mayhew—yes. the same boy In school; and that there wasn't dean shaven, well-set-up man of (I to have a few thing»«; and lie needn t letter to Jerry And then— fore I married, even If the young man Paul Mayhew that bad defied« his a girl I knew who wouldn't he craiy should judge) thirty-five years of age. him every face was turned—yet he think he could walk right In like that I believe non that I'll wait till I've mother ami sister and walked home to be In m.v «omest, most admires! boy In school that Mother threw him the glance vert» or the wire Inviting him to come. a French translation! have married Idin In two minutes If It the little Mary Marie of long ago I am ne didn’t care for girls. That Is he that said, "let me atten»l to this, thrilled If be bestowed upon me one tn his eyes only the "oh some friend Jerry ceibe—and he had not been hadn't been for the five day notice, no In dauger of starting my dinner with said he didn't Ifl '»ore himself with dear." lit