The Minneapolis journal., 1901-08-31
A-C-R owsey0

The makeup box she handled tenderly.
From Ned" it inscribed Ned? she
paused. What had ever become Of him? They
had quarreled, he drank so, and she had
begged him to give it up. Then-well, she
was too deadly respectable, he said.
She found the makeup paint hard to work,
but In half an hour she crept softly into the
library behind the child. Bending over the
sleepy head she clasped the wee hands and
awoke the baby with a kiss.
''You, my mama?'' The child turned, half
fearfully. SIS you my mama?''
'Yes, dear. am fairy mama now"
The player next door struck up a double
shuttle The little woman broke into the
step with toss Of her head. 1t was ludic-
rous, Of course. He would have thought
her crazy, but the baby enjoyed 1t, watched
her with dancing eyes, keeping tremuIous
time with its little feet. The mother danced
on. The days Of yore had come back She
was before the glaring lights. Presently she
stopped, out Of breath. In her ears rang
the echo Of old-time applause. She laughed
Historically and kissed the child Tears rolled
on the grease paint
you amt my mama You's little-girl
fairy; my mama's a great big fairy" the
child said The little woman laughed again.
She wished-no, II "He" was present he
would not understand. He had changed SO
much-since the days he used to hang around
the stage door for her to appear.
The music in the adjoining fiat trailed
away into silence. Then a woman's voice,
humming lightly, came across the hall And
again silence. They were closing the piano
and turning out the parlor lights.
The mother stood like one transhxed in the
center Of the library. The laughter died on
her lips She looked down at her berufied
skirts, which had suddenly turned fimsy and
| tawdry. Then hard. dry laugh rose in her
throat. Yes, that was the way they all
drnY rood Nrno 49,
and her love-
The child lay on the great leather couch,
blinking sleepily at her fairy mama" The
long lashes dropped, and a happy smile crept
round the baby mouth She was in fairyland
in truth. With sob the mother flung herself
beside the couch and clasped the dimpled
hand in hers. This at least was her own,
something real, something tangible and last
ing, the blessed mother-love.
And so He found them three hours later,
when he returned with the smiles Of fair
women still dazzling his eyes, and their
fairer words still ringing in his ears. He
bent over her with frown, but when he saw
the tiny burrows which the tears had made
through the grease paint, his eyes softened.
Then he walked to the table and picked up
the calendars. His brow was puckered as he
studied the queer pencil marks, until he
found the last one. Then he remembered the
day. He turned abruptly toward the graceful
figure crouched by the baby form, their
two hands tightly clasped. A mist passed
before his eyes. and when it was gone he
no longer saw the fair, fattering faces Of the
ballroom. He was back at the stage door Of
the theater waiting for Her.
She started suddenly and found herself in
her husbands arms. He was smiling into
her eyes, the sort of smile that carried her
back to that first year.
What sort Of game is this, Bess?" he
| asked.
She flushed under the rouge and stammered:
81 was-the baby and I-have been taking
trip to fairyland-"
"And the prince came along just in time
| to wake up the princess" he murmured, with
low laugh that made her think more and
| more Of that first year. And when she
| looked into his eyes, with sudden impulse
she flung her arms about his neck and whis-
pered smilingly:
I'm so glad waited for the prince"
And he, looking across the table at the
scattered calendars, understood.