Mostly Mary

by "CLEMENTIA"

Author of Uncle Frank's Mary The Quest of Mary Selwyn Bird-a-Lea, Etc.

Published by
MATRE & COMPANY
CHICAGO

Copyright 1921 by
MATRE & COMPANY

All Rights Reserved

To
four little rancheros,
Patricia, George, Edward, and Eleanor,
this story of other little people
is lovingly dedicated.

When at last she entered the sitting-room—with her pet white kitten, a rubber doll in a gay worsted suit, a big brightly colored rubber ball and a teddy bear almost as large as herself clasped in her arms.

CONTENTS

MOSTLY MARY

CHAPTER I.

THE S'PRISE.

"Dickie-Bird, have you seen our Goldilocks?" asked a deep voice at the door of the playroom.

"Here I am, Father!" and a dear little girl, half hidden by the window curtains, dropped the doll which she had been hugging and ran into Mr. Selwyn's arms. "I'm so glad you are here! Everything has been so—so different this morning. Liza came, instead of Aunt Mandy, to call me and help me to dress and then she told me to wait here for you, and——and——"

"And you thought Father had forgotten his little lass, eh?"

"I didn't quite think that, Father; but I was beginning to feel lonely, because I had to stay here instead of running right down to have breakfast with you and Mother and Uncle Frank."

"I see. Are you often lonely, pet?" asked her father, stroking the bright hair which fell in a mass of ringlets on her shoulders.

"Not very often, Father,—just sometimes, when you and Mother and Uncle Frank all go out to dinner or to a concert or something like that. Then—then I can't help wishing that God hadn't taken my little brothers to heaven. Of course, it's lovely for them to be there; but it would be so nice to have someone to play with all the time—not just sometimes, the way it is when Evelyn and Hazel and Rosemary come to see me. Mother says that Robert would be five years old, and Francis, three; and oh! we would have the best times! I wouldn't mind if they broke my dolls once in a while. Hazel won't let her little brother touch one of hers. But I think a really, truly, live brother is better to play with than all the dolls in the world. I would never be lonely if I had one."

"Well, pet, I think I can truly say that you will never be lonely again," and taking Mary's frail little hand, Mr. Selwyn led her out into the hall.

She thought they were going to breakfast, and looked up in surprise when they passed the head of the stairs. Her father smiled in a knowing fashion, and paused before the closed door of a sitting-room next to her mother's bedroom.

"Oh, have you a s'prise for me, Father?" whispered the little girl, clasping his hand with both of hers.

"A most beautiful surprise, dear. Perhaps you would like to guess what it is."

Mary looked very thoughtful for some moments; then, "It can't be a new doll, because Uncle Frank brought me one yesterday; and it can't be a letter from Aunt Mary, because that would be under my plate at the table. Besides, those things wouldn't make this morning so different from every other morning, and I can't think of a single thing that would."

"Then we had better waste no more time."

Her father opened the door, and Mary looked eagerly about the room, but could see nothing that had not been there the night before. Mr. Selwyn whispered quickly, "Sit in that big chair, and I shall bring the surprise to you."

He tiptoed into her mother's room, and a moment later, Aunt Mandy, her colored nurse, came out, carefully carrying a white bundle. Mr. Selwyn followed with one just like it.

"Dah yo' is, honey! But yo' ole mammy is 'fraid it am too hebby fo' yo'," chuckled Aunt Mandy, placing her bundle on Mary's lap.

"Oh! oh!