"But, Father, I can't" I choked again; and I guess there was something in my face this time that made even him see. For again he just stared for a minute, and then said:
"Mary, what in the world does this mean? Why can't you go back? Have you been—expelled?"
"Oh, no, sir."
"Then you mean you won't go back."
"I mean I can't—on account of Mother."
I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't had to. I didn't want to tell him, but I knew from the very first that I'd have to tell him before I got through. I could see it in his face. And so, now, with his eyes blazing as he jumped almost out of his chair and exclaimed, "Your mother!" I let it out and got it over as soon as possible.
"I mean, on account of Mother—that not for you, or Aunt Jane, or anybody will I go back to that school and associate with folks that won't associate with me—on account of Mother."
And then I told it—all about the girls, Stella Mayhew, Carrie, and how they acted, and what they said about my being Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde because I was a Mary and a Marie, and the ice-cream, and the parties they had to give up if they went with me. And I know I was crying so I could hardly speak before I finished; and Father was on his feet tramping up and down the room muttering something under his breath, and looking—oh, I can't begin to tell how he looked. But it was awful.
"And so that's why I wish," I finished chokingly, "that it would hurry up and be a year, so Mother could get married."
"Married!" Like a flash he turned and stopped short, staring at me.