Oh, it was lovely!  And I cried, and she cried some more, and we kissed each other, and I promised.  And after she went away I felt all upraised and holy, like you do when you’ve been to a beautiful church service with soft music and colored windows, and everybody kneeling.  And I felt as if I’d never be naughty or thoughtless again.  And that I’d never mind being Mary now.  Why, I’d be glad to be Mary half the time, and even more—­for Father.

But, alas!

Listen.  Would you believe it?  Just that same evening Mother stopped me again laughing too loud and making too much noise playing with Lester; and I felt real cross.  I just boiled inside of me, and said I hated Mary, and that Mother was getting to be just like Aunt Jane.  And yet, just that morning—­

Oh, if only that hushed, stained-window-soft-music feeling would last!

* * * * *

June.

Well, once more school is done, my trunk is all packed, and I’m ready to go to Andersonville.  I leave to-morrow morning.  But not as I left last year.  Oh, no.  It is very, very different.  Why, this year I’m really going as Mary.  Honestly, Mother has turned me into Mary before I go.  Now, what do you think of that?  And if I’ve got to be Mary there and Mary here, too, when can I ever be Marie?  Oh, I know I said I’d be willing to be Mary half, and maybe more than half, the time.  But when it comes to really being Mary out of turn extra time, that is quite another thing.

And I am Mary.

Listen: 

I’ve learned to cook.  That’s Mary.

I’ve been studying astronomy.  That’s Mary.

I’ve learned to walk quietly, speak softly, laugh not too loudly, and be a lady at all times.  That’s Mary.

And now, to add to all this, Mother has had me dress like Mary.  Yes, she began two weeks ago.  She came into my room one morning and said she wanted to look over my dresses and things; and I could see, by the way she frowned and bit her lip and tapped her foot on the floor, that she wasn’t suited.  And I was glad; for, of course, I always like to have new things.  So I was pleased when she said: 

“I think, my dear, that on Saturday we’ll have to go in town shopping.  Quite a number of these things will not do at all.”

And I was so happy!  Visions of new dresses and hats and shoes rose before me, and even the pink beaded silk came into my mind—­though I didn’t really have much hopes of that.

Well, we went shopping on Saturday, but—­did we get the pink silk?  We did not.  We did get—­you’d never guess what.  We got two new gingham dresses, very plain and homely, and a pair of horrid, thick low shoes.  Why, I could have cried!  I did ’most cry as I exclaimed: 

“Why, Mother, those are Mary things!”