You see, Mother never took me home with her but once, and then I was a
very small child. I don't know why, but I guess Father didn't want me
to go. It's safe to say he didn't, anyway. He never wants me to do
anything, hardly. That's why I suspect him of not wanting me to go
down to Grandpa Desmond's. And Mother didn't go only once, in ages.

Now this will be the end. And when I begin again it will be in Boston.
Only think of it--really, truly Boston!




CHAPTER IV

WHEN I AM MARIE


BOSTON.

Yes, I'm here. I've been here a week. But this is the first minute
I've had a chance to write a word. I've been so busy just being here.
And so has Mother. There's been such a lot going on since we came. But
I'll try now to begin at the beginning and tell what happened.

Well, first we got into Boston at four o'clock Monday afternoon, and
there was Grandpa Desmond to meet us. He's lovely--tall and dignified,
with grayish hair and merry eyes like Mother's, only his are behind
glasses. At the station he just kissed Mother and me and said he was
glad to see us, and led us to the place where Peter was waiting with
the car. (Peter drives Grandpa's automobile, and _he's_ lovely, too.)