to
find out what he'd said.

I'll copy it here. It wasn't long. It was like this:

MY DEAR MARY:

Some way Christmas has made me think of you. I wish I had sent you
some gift. Yet I have not the slightest idea what would please
you. To tell the truth, I tried to find something--but had to give
it up.

I am wondering if you had a good time, and what you did. After
all, I'm pretty sure you did have a good time, for you are
Marie now. You see I have not forgotten how tired you got of
being--Mary. Well, well, I do not know as I can blame you.

And now that I have asked what you did for Christmas, I suspect it
is no more than a fair turnabout to tell you what I did. I suppose
I had a very good time. Your Aunt Jane says I did. I heard her
telling one of the neighbors that last night. She said she left no
stone unturned to give me a good time. So, of course, I must have
had a good time.

She had a very fine dinner, and she invited Mrs. Darling and Miss
Snow and Miss Sanborn to eat it with us. She said she didn't want
me to feel lonesome. But you can feel real lonesome in a crowd
sometimes. Did you know that, Mary?

But I left them to their chatter after dinner and went out to the
observatory. I think I must have fallen asleep on the couch there,
for it was quite dark when I awoke. But I didn't mind that,
for there were some observations I wanted to take. It was a
beautifully clear night, so I stayed there till nearly morning.

How about it? I suppose Marie plays the piano every day now,
doesn't she? The piano here hasn't been touched since you went
away. Oh, yes, it was touched once. Your aunt played hymns on it
for a missionary meeting.

Well, what did you do Christmas? Suppose you write and tell

Your

FATHER

I'd been reading the letter out loud, and when I got through Mother
was pacing up and down the room. For a minute she didn't say anything;
then she whirled 'round suddenly and faced me, and said, just as if
something inside of her was _making_ her say it:

"I notice there is no mention of your mother in that letter, Marie. I
suppose--your father has quite forgotten that there is such a person
in the world as--I."

But I told her no, oh, no, and that I was sure he remembered her,
for he used to ask me questions often about what she did, and the
violinist and all.

"The violin