Contrary Mary

At the boat Leila went all to pieces. I could never have believed that

our gay little Leila would have taken anything so hard--and it was

pitiful to see Barry. But I can't talk about that--I can't think about

it.

Porter was dear to Leila. He treated her as if she were his own little

sister, and it was lovely. He took her right away from the General,

when the ship was leaving the dock.

"Brace up, little girl," he said; "he'll be back before you know it."

He literally carried her to a taxi and put her in, and then began such

a day. We did all of the delightful things that one can do in New York

on a summer day, beginning with breakfast at a charming inn on Long

Island, and ending with a roof garden at night. And that night Leila

was so tired that she went to sleep all in a minute, like a child, and

forgot to grieve.

Since we came back to Washington, Porter has kept it up, not letting

Leila miss Barry any more than possible, and playing big brother to

perfection.

It is queer how we misjudge people. If any one had told me that Porter

could be so sweet and tender to anybody, I wouldn't have believed it.

But perhaps Leila brings out that side of him. Now I am independent,

and aggressive, and I make Porter furious, and most of the time we

fight.

As I said, the house seems empty--but I am not in it much now. If I

had not had my work, I think I should have gone crazy. That's why men

don't get silly and hysterical and morbid like women--they are saved by

the day's work. I simply have to forget my troubles while I transcribe

my notes on the typewriter.

Of course you know what life in the Departments is without my telling

you. But to me it isn't monotonous or machine-like. I am awfully

interested in the people. Of course my immediate work is with the nice

old Chief. I'm glad he is old, and gray-haired. It makes me feel

comfortable and chaperoned. Do you know that I believe the reason that

most girls hate to go out to work is because of the loss of protection.

You see we home girls are always in the care of somebody. I've been

more than usually independent, but there has always been some one to

play propriety in the background. When I was a tiny tot there was my

nurse. Later at kindergarten I was sent home in a 'bus with all the

other babies, and with a nice teacher to see that we arrived safely.

Then there was mother and father and Barry and Constance, some of them

wherever I went--and finally, Aunt Isabella.