Mary Marie | Page 4

it Marie. And so it was settled.
Father called me Mary, and Mother called me Marie. And right away
everybody else began to call me Mary Marie. And that's the way it's
been ever since.
Of course, when you stop to think of it, it's sort of queer and funny,
though naturally I didn't think of it, growing up with it as I did, and
always having it, until suddenly one day it occurred to me that none of
the other girls had two names, one for their father, and one for their
mother to call them by. I began to notice other things then, too. Their
fathers and mothers didn't live in rooms at opposite ends of the house.
Their fathers and mothers seemed to like each other, and to talk
together, and to have little jokes and laughs together, and twinkle with
their eyes. That is, most of them did.
And if one wanted to go to walk, or to a party, or to play some game,
the other didn't always look tired and bored, and say, "Oh, very well, if
you like." And then both not do it, whatever it was. That is, I never saw
the other girls' fathers and mothers do that way; and I've seen quite a lot
of them, too, for I've been at the other girls' houses a lot for a long time.
You see, I don't stay at home much, only when I have to. We don't have
a round table with a red cloth and a lamp on it, and children 'round it
playing games and doing things, and fathers and mothers reading and
mending. And it's lots jollier where they do have them.
Nurse says my father and mother ought never to have been married.
That's what I heard her tell our Bridget one day. So the first chance I
got I asked her why, and what she meant.
"Oh, la! Did you hear that?" she demanded, with the quick look over
her shoulder that she always gives when she's talking about Father and
Mother. "Well, little pitchers do have big ears, sure enough!"
"Little pitchers," indeed! As if I didn't know what that meant! I'm no
child to be kept in the dark concerning things I ought to know. And I
told her so, sweetly and pleasantly, but with firmness and dignity. I
made her tell me what she meant, and I made her tell me a lot of other
things about them, too. You see, I'd just decided to write the book, so I

wanted to know everything she could tell me. I didn't tell her about the
book, of course. I know too much to tell secrets to Nurse Sarah! But I
showed my excitement and interest plainly; and when she saw how
glad I was to hear everything she could tell, she talked a lot, and really
seemed to enjoy it, too.
You see, she was here when Mother first came as a bride, so she knows
everything. She was Father's nurse when he was a little boy; then she
stayed to take care of Father's mother, Grandma Anderson, who was an
invalid for a great many years and who didn't die till just after I was
born. Then she took care of me. So she's always been in the family,
ever since she was a young girl. She's awfully old now--'most sixty.
First I found out how they happened to marry--Father and Mother, I'm
talking about now--only Nurse says she can't see yet how they did
happen to marry, just the same, they're so teetotally different.
But this is the story.
Father went to Boston to attend a big meeting of astronomers from all
over the world, and they had banquets and receptions where beautiful
ladies went in their pretty evening dresses, and my mother was one of
them. (Her father was one of the astronomers, Nurse said.) The
meetings lasted four days, and Nurse said she guessed my father saw a
lot of my mother during that time. Anyhow, he was invited to their
home, and he stayed another four days after the meetings were over.
The next thing they knew here at the house, Grandma Anderson had a
telegram that he was going to be married to Miss Madge Desmond, and
would they please send him some things he wanted, and he was going
on a wedding trip and would bring his bride home in about a month.
It was just as sudden as that. And surprising!--Nurse says a thunderclap
out of a clear blue sky couldn't have astonished them more. Father was
almost thirty years old at that time, and he'd never cared a thing for
girls, nor paid them the least little bit of attention. So they supposed, of
course, that