not going. She is Not.

She hasn't much sense, Mary Cary hasn't, but enough to know wedding
trips are personal, and, besides, the girls have turned into regular
weepers. Every time anything is said about going away their eyes water
up, and Martha feels like a yellow dog with no tail. I know they hate
Miss Katherine's going; but why do they cry about my going? Lord, this
is a strange place to live in, this world is! I wonder what heaven will
be like?

Miss Bray is much better. She says Uncle Parke has cured her. I don't
believe it. I believe it was Relief of the Mind.

* * * * *

I wasn't meant to be a sad person. I was silly sad the other day; but
I've found out when anything bothers you very much, it helps to take it
out and look at it. Walk all around it, poke it and see if it's sure
enough, and, if it isn't, tell it you'll see it dead before you'll let
it do you that way.

That's what I did with what was making me doleful, and now I'm all right
again. It was because I did want to go to Europe awful, and it twisted
my heart like a machine had it when I turned my back on the chance. And
then, too, it was because the girls begged me so not to go away for good
that I got so worried.

They said it wouldn't be the same if I wasn't here, and though they
didn't blame me, they begged me so not to go that I got as addled as the
old black hen that hatched ducks.