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•. ares GETTING DIVORCED SYNOPSIS.—In a preface Mary Marie explains her apparent "double personality" and just why she is a cross-current-and a contradiction she also tells her reasons (or writ ing the, diary—later to be a novel. The diary is commenced at Ander sonvtlle. Mary begins with Nurse Sarah's account of her (Mary's) birth, which seemingly Interested her father, who is a famous astron omer, less than a new star which was discovered the same night. Her name is a compromise, her father insisting on Abigail Jane. The child quickly learned that her home was in some way different from those of her small friends, and was puzzled thereat. Nurse Sarah tells her of her mother's ar rival at Andersonville as a bride and how astonished they all were at the sight of the dainty eighteen year-old girl whom the sedate pro fessor had chosen for a wife. Nurse Sarah makes it plain why the household seemed a strange one to the child and how her father and mother drifted apart through mis understanding, each too proud to in any way attempt to smooth over the situation. CHAPTER III—Continued. I didn't even think of asking Fath er, of course. I never ask Father questions. Nurse says I did ask him once why he didn't love me like other papas loved their little girls. But I was very little then, and I don't remem ber it at all. But Nurse said Father didn't like it very well, and maybe I did remember that part, without real ly knowing It. Anyhow, I never think of asking Father questions. I asked the doctor first. I thought maybe 'twas some kind of a disease, and if he knew it was coming, he could give them some sort of a medi cine to-keep it away—like being vac cinated so's not to have smallpox, you know. And I told him so. He gave a funny little laugh, that somehow didn't sound like a laugh at all. Then he grew very, very sober, and said: "I'm sorry, little girl, but I'm afraid I haven't got any medicine that will prevent—a divorce. If I did have, there'd be no eating or drinking or sleeping for me, I'm thinking—I'd be so busy answering my calls." "Then it Is a disease!" I cried. And I can remember just how fright ened I felt." "But isn't there any doc tor anywhere that can stop it?" He shook his head and gave that queer little laugh again. "I'm afraid not," he sighed. "As for It's being a disease—there are people that call it a disease, and there are others who call It a cure and there are still others who say it's a remedy worse than the disease It tries to cure. But, there, you baby! What am I saying? Come, come, my dear, just forget it. It's nothing you should bother your little head over now. Watt till you're older." Till I'm older, Indeed! How I hate" to have folks talk to me like that! And they do—they do it all the time, As if I was a child now, when I'm almost standing there where the brook and river meet! But that was just the kind of talk I got, everywhere, riearly every time I asked any one what a divorce was. Some laughed, and some sighed. Some looked real worried 'cause I'd asked it, and one got mad. (That was the dressmaker. I found out afterward that she'd had a divorce already, so -probably she thought I asked the ques tion on purpose to plague her.) But nobody would answer me—really an swer me sensibly, so I'd know what It meant and 'most everybody said, "Run away, child," or "You shouldn't talk of such things,of, "Wait, my dear, till you're older"' and all that. Oh, bow I hate such talk when I really want to know something! How •do they expect us to get our education if they won't answer our questions? I don't know which made me angri est—I mean angrier. (I'm speaking of two things, so I must, I suppose. I hate grammar!) To have them talk like that—not answer me, you know —or have them do as Mr. Jones, the Storekeeper, did, and the men there with him. It was one day when I was in there buying .some white thread for Nurse Sarah, and it was a little while after I had asked the tloctor if a divorce waft a disease. Somebody had said something that made me think you could buy divorces, and I had suddenly determined to ask Mr. Jones if he had them for sale. (Of course all this sounds very silly to me now, for I know that a divorce is very simple and very common. It's just like a marriage certificate, only it unmar ries. you instead of marrying you but I didn't know It then. And if I'm going to tell this story I've got to tell It just as it happened, of course.) Well, I asked Mr. Jones if you could buy divorces, and if he had theio for jgjr ELEANOR H. PORTER ILLUSTRATIONS BY" KH.LIVINGSTONE. 4 COPYRIGHT BY ELEANOR H. PORTER sale and you ought to have heard those men laugh. There were six of them sitting around the stove behind me. "Oh, yes, my little maid" (above all things I abhor to be called a little maid!) one of them cried. "You can buy them If you've got money enough but I don't reckon our friend Jones here has got them for sale." Then they all laughed again, and winked at each other. (That's another disgusting thing—winks when you ask a perfectly civil question! But what can you do? Stand it, that's all. There's such a lot of things we poor women have to stand!) Then they quieted down and looked very sober —the kind of sober you know is faced with laughs in the back—and began to tell me what a divorce really was. I can't remember them ail, but I can some of them. Of course I understand now that these men were trying to be smart, and were talking for each other, not for me. And I knew it then—a little. We know a lot more things sometimes than folks think we do. Well, as near as I can remember it was like this: "A divorce is a knife that cuts a knot that hadn't ought to ever been tied," said one. "A divorce Is a jump In the dark," said another. "No, it ain't. It's a jump from the frying pan Into the fire," piped up Mr. Jones. "A divorce Is the comedy of the rich and the tragedy of the poor,"., said a little man who wore glasses. "Divorce is a nice smushy poultice that may help but won't heal," cut in a new voice. "Divorce Is a guldepost marked. 'H—1 to Heaven,' but lots of folks miss tm Well, I Asked Mr, Jones If You Could Buy Divorces, and If He Had Them for Sale. the way, just the same, I notice," spoke up somebody with a chuckle. tDivorce Is a coward's retreat from the battle of life." Captain Harris said this. He spoke slow and decided. Cap tain Harris is old and rich, and not married. He's the hotel's star boarder, and what he say*, goes, 'most always. But it didn't this time. I can remem ber just how old Mr. Carlton snapped out the next. "Speak from your own experience, Tom Harris, fln' I'm thlnkln' you ain't fit ter judge. I tell you divorce Is what three fourths of the husbands an' wives in the world wish was waitin' for.'em at home this very night. But It ain't there." I knew,-of course, he was thinking of Ms wife. She's some cross, I guess, and has two warts on her nose. There was more, quite a lot more, said. But I've forgotten the rest. Be sides, they weren't talking to me then, anyway. So I picked up my thread and slipped out of the store, glad to escape. But, as I said before, I didn't find many like them. Of course I know now—what divorce Is, I mean. And it's all settled. They granted us some kind of a decree or degree, and we're going to Boston next Monday. It's been awful, though—this last year. First we had to go to that hor rid place out west, and stay ages and ages. And I hated it. Mother did, too. I know she did. I went to school, and there were quite a lot of girls my age, and some boys but I didn't care much for them. I couldn't even have the fun of surprising* them with the divorce we were going to have. I found they were going to have one, too—every last one of them. And when everybody has a thing, you know there's no particular —*.•'"•••'•"•- .w -•.-- fun In having It yourself. Besides, they were very unkind and disagree able, and bragged a lot about their divorces. They said mine was tame, and had no sort of snap to it, when they found Mother didn't have a lover waiting in the next town, or Father hadn't run off with his stenographer, or nobody had shot anybody, or any thing. That made me mad, and I let, them see it, good and plain. I told thein our divorce was perfectly all right and genteel and respectable that Nurse Sarah said it was. Ours was going to be incompatibility, for one thing, which meant that you got on each other's nerves, and Just naturally didn't care for each other "any more. But they only laughed, and said even more disagreeable things, so that I didn't want to go to school any longer, and I told Mother so, and the reason, too, of course. But, dear me, I wished right off that I hadn't. I supposed she was going to be superb and haughty and disdainful, and say things that would put those girls where they belonged. But, my stars! How could I know that she was going to burst into such a storm of sobs and clasp me to her bosom, and get my face all wet and cry out: "Oh, my baby, my baby—to think I have sub jected you to this, my baby, my baby!" And I couldn't say a tiling to coin fort her, or make her stop, even when •I told her over and over again tliat I wasn't a baby. I was almost a young lady and I wasn't being subjected to anything bad. I liked it—only I didn't like to have those girls brag so, when our divorce was away ahead of theirs, anyway. But she only cried more and more, and held ine tighter and tighter, rock ing back and forth in her chair. She took me out of school, though, and had a Jady come to teach me ,all by myself,, so I didn't have-.tO'.hear, .those girls brag any more,,, a«yi\'8}v That was better. But she wasn't any happier herself. I could see-that. There were lots of other ladies there beautiful ladies only she didn't seein to like them any better than I did the girls. I wondered if maybe they bragged, too, and I asked her but she only began to cry again, and moan, "What have I done, what have I done?"—and I had to try all over again to comfort her. But I couldn't. She got so she just stayed in her room lots and lots. I tried to make her put on her pretty clothes, and do as the other ladies did, and go out and walk and sit on the big piazzas, and dance, and eat at the pretty little tables. She did, some, when we fir^t came, and took me, and I just loved It. They were such beautiful ladies, with their bright eyes, and their red cheeks and jolly ways and their dresses were so perfectly lovely, all silks and satins and sparkly spangles, and diamonds and rubies and emer alds, and silk stockings, and little bits of gold and silver slippers.. And once I saw two of them smok ing. They had the cutest little ciga rettes (Mother said they were) in gold holders, and I knew then that I was seeing life—real life not the stupid kind you get back in a country town like Andersonvllie. And I said so to Mother and I was going to ask her if Boston was like that. But I didn't get the chance. She jumped up so quick I thought something had hurt her, and cried, "Good Heavens, Baby!" (How I hate to be called "Baby"!) Then she just threw some money on to the table to pay the bill and hurried me away. It was after that that she began to stay in her room so much, and not take me anywhere except for walks at the other end of the town where It was all quiet and stupid, and no music or lights or anything. And though I teased and teased to go back to the pretty, jolly places, she wouldn't ever take .me not once. Then by and by, one day we met a little black-haired woman with white cheeks and very big sad eyes. There weren't any spangly dresses and gold slippers about her, I can tell you! She was crying on a bench In the park, and Mother told me to stay back and watch the swans while she went up and spoke to her. (Why do old folks always make us watch swans or read books or look Into store windows or run and play all the time? Don't they suppose we understand perfectly well what it means—that they're going to say something they don't want us to hear?) Well, Mother and the lady on the bench talked and talked ever so long, and then Mother called me up, and the lady cried a little over me, and said, "Now, perhaps, if I'd had a little girl like that—!" Then she stopped and cried some more. We saw this lady real often after that. She was nice and pretty and sweet, and I liked her iut she was always awfully sad, and I don't believe It was half so good for Mother to be *with her as it would have been for her to be with those jolly, laughing ladies that were always having such good times. But I couldn't make Mother see it that way at ail. There are times when It seems as If mother just couldn't see things the way I do. Hon estly, it seems sometimes almost as if she was the cross-current and contra* diction Instead of me. It does. Well, as I said before, 1 didn't like It very well out there, and I don't be lieve a Motlier did, either. But it's all over now, and we're back home pack ing up to go to Boston. "Do old folks honestly think they are fooling us all the time, I wonder7" (TO BE CONTINUED.) The man who la given to self-prnls« owes an apology to bis acquaintance*. THE HOPE PIONEER YOU CAN WALK IN COMFORT If yon Shake Into Tour Show some ALLEN'S FOOT=EA8B, the Antiseptic, Healing pow der for shoes that pinch or feet that ache. It takes the friction from the shoe and gives relief to corns and bunions, hot, tired, sweating, swollen feet. Ladles can wear •hoes one slse smaller by shaking Allen's FootasEase In each shoe.—Advertisement. 'Ard Blow for 'Erbert. H. G. Wells told an Interviewer the other day that prose which could be metaphrased Into poetry was anathema to him. He will be heartbroken' to learn that In contrasting his peaceful convalescence at Amalfi a year ago with his position today he perpetuated the following: "My mind and my BOUI were all my own. Now I live to the tune of a tele phone." —Boston Transcript. Not a Debatable Point. The Woman was calling on her next door neighbor, and while seated In the living room the front doorbell gave a sharp ring. As It happened to be the maid's day out, the small daughter of the house answered the ring. A penetrating voice reached from the open door: "Is your mother en gaged?" Mary Ellen's shrill treble was a mingling of astonishment and Indig nation. "My mother engaged! No, ma'am she's been married for years." Cutlcura Comforts Baby's Skin When red, rough and Itching, by hot baths of Cutlcura Soap and touches of Cutlcura Ointment. Also make use now and then of that exquisitely scented dusting powder, Cutlcura Tulcum, one of the Indispensable Cutlcura Toilet Trio.—Advertisement. HAIR NETS AND ARMENIANS Interesting Comparison Between Cost of the Former and the Clothing of the Latter. The hair net milady wears would clothe several orphan children in Ar menia for more than six months. That Is, the cost of them would. Even Ar menian orphans are sometimes more modest than milady. Experts have flgured that $1.80 will completely attire In unbleached mus lin garments a child of the Far East relief orphanages of the Transcauca slan famine zones for six months. And experts also figure that milady's bill for hair nets during a like period would be In considerable excess of that amount, depending upon—well, upon several things. Hair nets are of un certain durability under any circum stances. And milady Is not always over cautious. Even an expert hesi tates to hazard some guesses. The Near East relief has Just pur chased 800,000 yards of unbleached muslin for summer garments for Its wards In Transcaucasia. Where Is there a bill-maddened household head ungallant enough to remark that a country full of orphans Is not the greatest liability In the world?—Chi cago Evening Post. Query Stumps Smoker. When James Murphy of Long Island City was arraigned In the Long Is land City police court on a sharge of smoking In a subway station, he waB asked by the magistrate to give an explanation. Murphy said: "Judge, I paid my fare, and had Just filled my pipe and went down in to the subway, and I had my pipe In my hand, and having no place to put It, I put it In my mouth. It's the first time It has ever happened, Judge." "All right, Murphy," answered Judge oyle, I will suspend sentence on you this time. But suppose you had an umbrella In your hand?" Murphy grinned, and left the court room. Some women marry In order to be independent, and some men get mar ried for the same reason. Any fish a boy catches tastes good to his way of thinking. 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