“In about thirty days from that time my father was called to go to the country, some sixteen miles, to officiate at the funeral of an old member of his flock. The day was bitter cold; the wind howled, while the snow went swirling and drifting everywhere. It was necessary for him to drive; he arrived home late that night, chilled and benumbed from the cold and exposure; in three days pneumonia had added poor papa to its long list of victims. “A parson’s salary is not a source of large bank accounts, and by the time all the expenses which were incurred by the illness and death of my father were paid we were without means; then the regulation donation party was inaugurated and by that means we were put in possession of a sufficient amount of the necessities of life to exist on for several months, and to help, the official board met and passed a resolution that they would not engage a regular pastor for the remainder of the winter, so mamma and I could ‘just as well’ live in the parsonage right along until further notice. Christmas passed that year with as much sadness in it for me as there had been joy and pleasure in the preceding ones; cold, dreary winter days did nothing to enhance the value of our lives; then came spring, ushered in by the songs of birds and the breath of roses. The official board met again and a new pastor was called to take the place of him who had been the light of my life. The members of the church were not thoughtless by any means, for they, in their goodness, provided for us; in a certain town in Eastern Indiana there is a Baptist hospital; it was through the generous and kindly directed influence of my father’s flock that my mother was offered the position of matron of this institution. We took up our abode there and it was there that my real life began. “When I was fifteen years old I tried my hand at writing again, but not for a doll this time; I was successful enough to have a story received by a popular magazine, for which they paid me fifty dollars. This brought me not a little notoriety and I was asked to join a literary club and practically taken into the arms of the social leaders of the town. If I say I was good looking, I do so only because others declared such to be the case. I seemed to be a favorite; I was much wanted at the different social functions for I had learned to play and sing. It was little wonder that when a young man came into the city and arranged with the Ladies’ Club to produce an opera, solely with local talent, that my name was mentioned as being the one for the leading part. The part required youth, grace, modesty and vigor, a combination which the director told me was not easily found.