f ' THE CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
fr MARGIE CONFESSES A VERY DEEP SECRET
f (Copyright, 1914, by the Newspaper Enterprise Association.)
Mrs. Bill Tenney called on me yes
terday. After admiring my house to an ex
tent that satisfied even me, she re
marked with a sigh:
"Mrs. Waverly, you should be a
very happy woman "
"I think I am perfectly happy," I
answered. "I certainly enjoy my lit
tle home, although I find keeping
house more expensive than I thought.
I am just about choosing between a
new fall suit and a maid to help me
with the work this winter."
"A man would choose the maid,"
Baid Mrs. Tenney.
"How do you know that?" I asked.
"Well, in the first place, a man will
be comfortable whether his clothes
are the latest style or not If most
men kept house they would have cer
tain things done for themselves just
as most men have their shoes black
ed or their faces shaved.
"Men care more for comfort than
beauty for themselves and more for
beauty than for comfort for the wo
man who must sit across the break
fast table from them day after day.
"No matter how ragged a man
gets, it seldoms enters his mind to
mend the rents, no matter how dirty
his shirt he seldom thinks he can
"Whatever else a woman does she
usually does all these little personal
things, not only for herself but for
"Men usually do one thing and dd
it well without making life a burden,
but we women try to do so many
things that we get the reputation of
doing everything in a slipshod fash
ion." "Well, what are you going to do,
Mrs. Tenney?" I asked, "if you are
left a widow as was a friend of mine?
Her husband died suddenly and left
her wiju three little clifldjren and
about six dollars in money. She had
to earn money enough to support
these little chDdren she had to do
the dead father's work and yet she
was their mother and she must give
them all the care that a mother gives
"This brave little woman did this
with no asking for sympathy or re
lief. She worked all day to earn their
bread and' at night she mothered her
children, put them to bed, heard them
say their prayers, made and mended
their clothes, bound up their childish
hurts and kissed the spots to make
them well. She, my dear Mrs. Tenney,
had to do many things and she did
her duty outside her home in such
fashion that her employers valued
her work and she did her work in
side her home so well that her chil
dren did not miss a mother's care.
"No one seemed to think that this
woman was doing anything out of
the ordinary, but in some way her
oldest child, a boy of ten, appreciated
it, for when he came down to break
fast he always greeted her gravely:
"Good morning, Father,' and she as
gravely replied: 'Good morning, son.'
Then be said: 'Good morning, Moth
er,' and she answered with a kiss:
'Good morning, my boy.' "
"That is just the point I want to
make," said Mrs. Tenney, "no one
thinks that wonderful woman is do
ing anything extraordinary. They
are her children she must care for
them. But if she had died and left
the children to the father's care no
one would have thought for a mo
ment that he could be to them a
mother and father, too."
"Do you know, Margie, I would
give anything if I had children," she
interrupted impulsively. "I believe
that Will and I would still be togeth
er. And even if we were parted, as
we are nowt I would have the chil
dreu to comfort mOi ,
fYflth 1 r ' T iiMiiiin liiliiiir Ai T- iM I Tin ii ill
xml | txt