ine was one of the
most wonderful things in the world. That if she'd only been taught it
when she was a girl, her life would have been very, very different.
And so she was giving me a great big box of chocolates for my very
own, just so as to teach me to deny myself and take only three pieces
every day.

Three pieces!--and all that whole big box of them just making my
mouth water all the while; and all just to teach me that horrid old
self-discipline! Why, you'd think it was Aunt Jane doing it instead of
Mother!

* * * * *

_One week later._

It's come--Father's letter. It came last night. Oh, it was short, and
it didn't say anything about what _I_ wrote. But I was proud of it,
just the same. I just guess I was! There wasn't much in it but just
that I might stay till the school closed in June, and then come. But
_he wrote it_. He didn't get Aunt Jane to write to Mother, as he did
before. And then, besides, he must have forgotten his stars long
enough to think of me a _little_--for he remembered about the school,
and that I couldn't go there in Andersonville, and so he said I had
better stay here till it finished.

And I was so glad to stay! It made me very happy--that letter. It made
Mother happy, too. She liked it, and she thought it was very, very
kind of Father to be willing to give me up almost three whole months
of his six, so I could go to school here. And she said so. She said
once to Aunt Hattie that she was almost tempted to write and thank
him. But Aunt Hattie said, "Pooh," and it was no more than he ought to
do, and that _she_ wouldn't be seen writing to a man who so carefully
avoided writing to _her_. So Mother didn't do it, I guess.

But I wrote. I had to write three letters, though, before I got one
that Mother said would do to send. The first one sounded so _glad_ I
was staying that Mother said she was afraid he would feel hurt, and
that would be too bad--when he'd been so kind. And the second one
sounded as if I was so _sorry_ not to go to Andersonville the first of
April that Mother said that would never do in the world. He'd think
I didn't _want_ to stay in Boston. But the third letter I managed to
make just glad enough to stay, and just sorry enough not to go. So
that Mother said it was all right. And I sent it. You see I _asked_
Mother to help me about this letter. I knew she wouldn't cry and moan
about being jealous this time. And she didn't. She was real excit