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Porter, Eleanor H. (Eleanor Hodgman), 1868-1920

"Mary Marie"

But she did mean
it. I know, because she said it before, once, last year, that she
hoped you _would_ find one."
"Oh, she did." He sat back in his chair again, sort of limp-like. But
I couldn't tell yet, from his face, whether I'd convinced him or not.
So I went on.
"Yes, and that isn't all. There's another reason, why I know Mother
always has--has your best interest at heart. She--she tried to make me
over into Mary before I came, so as to please you."
"She did _what_?" Once more he made me jump, he turned so suddenly,
and spoke with such a short, sharp snap.
But in spite of the jump I went right on, just as I had before, firm
and decided. I told him everything--all about the cooking lessons, and
the astronomy book we read an hour every day, and the pink silk
dress I couldn't have, and even about the box of chocolates and the
self-discipline. And how she said if she'd had self-discipline when
she was a girl, her life would have been very different. And I told
him about how she began to hush me up from laughing too loud, or
making any kind of noise, because I was soon to be Mary, and she
wanted me to get used to it, so I wouldn't trouble him when I got
here.
I talked very fast and hurriedly. I was afraid he'd interrupt, and I
wanted to get in all I could before he did.


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