Manchurian Books

I had thirteen dollars. It was enough for a
Plan I was beginning to have in mind.
"Go to bed early, Barbara," mother said when they were
ready to go out.
"You don't mind if I write a letter, do you?"
"To whom?"
"Oh, just a letter," I said, and she stared at me coldly.
"I daresay you will write it, whether I consent or not.
Leave it on the hall table, and it will go out with the morning
mail."
"I may run out to the box with it."
"I forbid your doing anything of the sort."
"Oh, very well," I responded meekly.
"If there is such haste about it, give it to Hannah to
mail."
"Very well," I said.
She made an excuse to see Hannah before she left, and I
knew _that I was being watched_. I was greatly excited, and
happier than I had been for weeks. But when I had settled myself
in the Library, with the paper in front of me, I could not think
of anything to say in a letter. So I wrote a poem instead.
_"To H----_
_"Dear love: you seem so far away,_
_I would that you were near._
_I do so long to hear you say_
_Again, `I love you, dear.


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