“Dear Marion: (wrote Ada.)
We are all very glad to hear you are doing so well in Boston” (I
had told them so) “and we hope you will come home this summer.
Papa is not at all well and mama awfully worried. There is not much
money coming in. I am doing all I can to help, and I gave up a good
position offered me by the C. P. R. to travel over their Western
lines and write travel pamphlets, because I will not leave mama
just now.
Charles would do more, but his wife won’t let him. I think you
ought to help. Ellen has been sending money regularly, but now
Wallace is ill. Even Nora sends something each week.
I must say, Marion, that you always were the one to think only of
yourself, and you always managed to have a good time. Now as you
are earning money in the States, and there are so many younger ones
at home, you certainly ought to send home some money. It is wicked
of you not to.
You will be sorry to hear that Daisy (the sister next to Nellie)
went into the convent to be a nun last week. She simply was bent
upon it and nothing we could say or do would stop her. You know she
became a convert to the Catholic faith soon after Nellie married de
Rochefort. She is with the Order of the Little Sisters of Jesus,
and her name is now Sister Marie Anastasia. We all feel very badly
about it, as she is so young to shut herself up for life.
Last Sunday I went for a walk as far as the Convent of Les Petites
Sœurs de Jesus, and I looked over the garden fence, but I could see
no sign of our Daisy. So I called: ‘Daisy! Daisy!’ and oh, Marion,
I felt awful to think of her behind those stone walls, just like a
prisoner, and I even imagined I saw her face looking out of one of
the windows of the solemn, ghostly-looking convent building. It is
a very hard Order. We did everything to dissuade her, but one night
she took the pilgrimage to Ste. Anne de Beaupré on a sort of prayer
ship, and she never got off her knees all night long. Do you
remember what beautiful hair Daisy had--the only one in our family
with golden hair--well, it is all shaved off, mama says, though
that was unnecessary till her final vows. So we’ve lost Daisy.
It’s just as if she were dead.
Have you broken off your engagement to that Reggie Bertie? You know
I always said he was no good, and I never believed he really loved
you. That kind of man only loves himself. Anyway there is no need
to get married if you can earn your own living. I think most men
are hateful.
I met that Lil Markey on the street and she asked for your address.
She said she was going to New York. She’s pretty common, and if I
were you I’d not associate with her. You should have some pride.
Write soon, and send some money when you do. Sooner the better.
Love from all,
Your aff. sister,
Ada.”
I looked at my money. I counted all that I possessed. I had just six
dollars and twenty cents. I was badly in need of clothes, and I was only
eating one meal a day. For breakfast and lunch I had simply crackers.
Still, I felt that those at home probably needed money more than I did.
So I wrote to Ada:
“DEAR ADA:
I was so sorry to hear papa is ill, and that you were all having a
hard time; so I enclose $4, all I can spare just now. I am not
making as much as I thought I was going to when I last wrote you;
but I’ll soon be doing fine, so don’t worry about me, and tell papa
and mama everything is all right.
It’s awful about Daisy. She’s a poor little fool, and yet perhaps
she is happier than any of us. Anyway I guess she feels peaceful.
It must be sweet not to have to worry at all. Still I don’t believe
in any stupid churches now.
You don’t understand about Reggie. He was and is in love with me,
so there, and he writes to me every day begging me to return. I
guess I know my own affairs better than you do. I have no more
news, so will say good-bye, and with love to all,
Your aff. sister,