Newspaper Page Text
CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
THERE IS NO MOTHER LIKE YOUR MOTHER
Well, little book, jny prophecy was
all right A "pleasant day was had
by all" when Mollie's mother came
If Mr. Trent had not been with her
I think I should have gone mad. I
wish you had eyes, little book, to see
her since she married Mr. Trent. She
feels her present happiness has come
to her so late in life as a reward for
her well-spent and arduous existence
with Dad Waverly and the children.
Mr. Trent is a splendid man and
he is certainly very fond of his wife.
And here is the queer thing about it,
little book her son, her son-in-law
and almost every other man she ever
came in contact with, except Dad
Waverly and Mr. Trent, have not
cared for her at all.
Poor old dad worked like a dog,
and because he was not a money
maker he was a man who would
rather read and write books than sell
them he was always being nagged.
Mrs. Trent, when she was Mrs. Wa
verly, was always finding fault with
him and making him and everyone
else about her unhappy.
Now that she is married to Mr.
Trent and has plenty of money at
her disposal it would be pathetic if it
were not so ridiculous to see how she
brings to life her old longing and
prejudices and babies them.
She has reduced her figure and,
corseted and massaged, made up
and handsomely gowned, she looks
about fifteen years younger than she
really is. Her hair she has dyed the
bronze brown of the latest fashion
and she wears all the wonderful col
ors, frills and furbelows that I am
sure she wanted to wear when she
was 25 and could not.
Her make-up and dress nearly
drive Mollie and Dick crazy, for you
know, little book, everyone's mother
is, of course, different from any oth
'Why, Margie," said Mollie to me 1 was a girl.
when talking about her mother, "she
is an old woman."
"MyMear girl, she is only seven
teen years older than Dick."
"But Dick is 35," she interrupted.
"That makes her over 50 and I think
it is indecent" for a woman of that
age to wear the clothes mother does.
Why, the other night, just before she
came down here, I saw her at the
theater in an American beauty gown,
very low cut I wanted to laugh and
cry. I never thought to see my
mother in a low-cut gown."
"But you wear them, Mollie "
"Yes, dear, but I am only 25 years
'"Madame Symone, who is older
than your mother, wears them."
"That is just it Madame Symone
is not my mother."
"You've said it, my dear Mollie.
One's mother is not a human'being
she is not even a woman. She is just
mother and so she must conform to
the wonderful ideal that has been
carefully fostered in the mind of
every generation until now 'mother'
means something that is not and
cannot by any possibility be human.
"It is astonishing, Mollie, how few
of us there are who do not accept
our definitions and our opinions
ready made. If we would only stop
to think we would know that there
are good mothers, and bad mothers,
careful and careless mothers, loving
and indifferent mothers, devoted and
negligent mothers, selfless and self
"Your mother, Mollie, has always
been supremely selfish. She has al
ways wanted certain things for her
self and now that she can have them
it is quite certain that she will flaunt
them in the face of the world. At
that, my dear, I have a lot of sym
pathy for the woman who not until
late in life is able to buy the things
for which her soul starved when she