Mary Louise | Page 4

endure was when he carried a book of poems in his pocket
and insisted on reading from it while they rested in a shady nook by the
roadside or on the bank of the little river that flowed near by the town.
Mary Louise had no soul for poetry, but she would have endured far
greater hardships rather than forfeit the genial companionship of
Gran'pa Jim.
It was only during these past two years that she had come to know her
grandfather so intimately and to become as fond of him as she was
proud. Her earlier life had been one of so many changes that the
constant shifting had rather bewildered her. First she remembered
living in a big city house where she was cared for by a nurse who was
never out of sight or hearing. There it was that "Mamma Bee"--Mrs.
Beatrice Burrows-- appeared to the child at times as a beautiful vision
and often as she bent over her little daughter for a good-night kiss the
popular society woman, arrayed in evening or ball costume, would
seem to Mary Louise like a radiant angel descended straight from
heaven.
She knew little of her mother in those days, which were quite hazy in
memory because she was so young. The first change she remembered
was an abrupt flitting from the splendid city house to a humble cottage
in a retired village. There was no maid now, nor other servant whatever.
Mamma Bee did the cooking and sweeping, her face worn and anxious,
while Gran'pa Jim walked the floor of the little sitting room day by day,
only pausing at times to read to Mary Louise stories from her nursery
books.
This life did not last very long--perhaps a year or so--and then they
were in a big hotel in another city, reached after a long and tiresome
railway journey. Here the girl saw little of her grandfather, for a
governess came daily to teach Mary Louise to read and write and to do
sums on a pretty slate framed in silver. Then, suddenly, in dead of night,

away they whisked again, traveling by train until long after the sun was
up, when they came to a pretty town where they kept house again.
There were servants, this time, and horses and carriages and pretty
clothes for Mary Louise and Mamma Bee. The little girl was sent to a
school just a block away from her home. She remembered Miss Jenkins
well, for this teacher made much of her and was so kind and gentle that
Mary Louise progressed rapidly in her studies.
But the abrupt changes did not end here. Mary Louise came home from
school one afternoon and found her dear mother sobbing bitterly as she
clung around the neck of Gran'pa Jim, who stood in the middle of the
room as still as if he had been a marble statue. Mary Louise promptly
mingled her tears with those of her mother, without knowing why, and
then there was a quick "packing-up" and a rush to the railway again.
Next they were in the house of Mr. and Mrs. Peter Conant, very
pleasant people who seemed to be old friends of Mamma Bee and
Gran'pa Jim. It was a cosy house, not big and pretentious, and Mary
Louise liked it. Peter Conant and Gran'pa Jim had many long talks
together, and it was here that the child first heard her grandfather called
"Colonel." Others might have called him that before, but she had not
heard them. Mrs. Conant was very deaf and wore big spectacles, but
she always had a smile on her face and her voice was soft and pleasing.
After a few days Mamma Bee told her daughter she was going to leave
her in the care of the Conants for a time, while she traveled to a foreign
country with Gran'pa Jim. The girl was surprised at being abandoned
but accepted her fate quietly when it was explained that she was to go
to school while living with the Conants, which she could not do if she
was traveling with her mother and grandfather, who were making this
arrangement for the girl's best good.
Three years Mary Louise lived with the Conants and had little to
complain of. Mr. Conant was a lawyer and was at his office all day,
while Mrs. Conant was very kind to the girl and looked after her
welfare with motherly care.

At last, quite unexpectedly, Mary Louise's trunk was packed and she
was taken to the station to meet a train on which were her mother and
grandfather. They did not leave the cars except to shake hands with the
Conants and thank them for their care of Mary Louise. A moment later
the train bore away the reunited