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"l was thinking of Jack. He had
, bo much could have made so much
and well, it's all over. Nothing at
For the first time since the trouble
Dick broke down.
"We were pals as boys," he said,
"and I can't tell now when we grew
It was then I read him Kittie's let
ter, and after I had finished he said,
a "I guess she is right We are not
made good or bad or weak or strong
in a flash. We have to train up or
down to it"
THINKS WOMEN ARE MISERS
Things have happened so thick and
fast for the last few weeks, little
book, that it has been impossible to
hardly think about them, much less
to write them down for you.
I 'shall try to do it as often as pos
sible, however, for it always clears my
brain when I talk to you. I am able
to form conclusions that I fell are
much more sensible than if I jumped
at them without thinking the circum
Our hospital patients all seem pret
ty comfortable. Mary has not fully
recovered her memory, although she
knows us, and her temperature has
lowered four degrees.
Dear Aunt Mary's pain has been
made easier by opiates most of the
time, but she has hours when she
seems herself. At these times she
wants me with her.
Mother Waverly is completely sub
merged under load of grief and sur
prise oyer one of her son's doing
Jack's awful deed. She clings to
Dick, and consequently we both are
practically living at the hospital.
Pat Sullivan has given Mollie a
three weeks' vacation, and she is with
her mother all the time. She only
comes home with us at night
I have tried to persuade Mollie not
to stay at the hospital every minute,
for she is looking worn and pale, but
I she seems to feel that perhaps she is
in some way to blame for the terrible
catastrophe. "If I had gone to work
in the shop when dad wanted me to
instead of going to work on the news
paper things would have been differ
ent," she keeps on saying to me.
I try to tell her that the most futile
thoughts in the world are those which
conjure up a different set of circum
stances from those that have brought
about a great grief or a great change
in one's life.
"It might have been," wails all hu
manity, but few of us are strong
enough to add, "but it was not, so
why picture to ourselves anything dif
ferent from the actual happenings?"
Mollie asked Dick last night if he
though a change of scene would help
Mother Waverly. "Yes, I do," said
Dick with a groan, "but Mollie, dear,
I have not the money to send her
away. It would be very expensive, for
either you or Margie would have to
go with her."
"I'll go with her, Dick, and I have
the money," answered Mollie quick
ly. Dick looked at us "both for a mo
menf. "You women are a constant
surprise to me," he burst out "I
think you are all more or less misers.
You always have some money put
away in a safe place, don't you?"
"Not all of us, Dick," I answered,
"but I think it is characteristic of
most women that when they begin to
earn money they try to save a little.
The women who are thoughtlessly
extravagant are those who do not
know the value of money those who
are given what they get with the least
tacit assurance that they can have
more when that is gone. Such women
are not so much to blame as are their
fathers, brothers or those who have
established this usually loving, if mis
taken, mastery over their lives and
"But even you, Margie, always seem
to spend more money than I."
"I do. As a rule women are the
spenders of the world. That is their
business, and only as they spend ju