The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1902-01-01
a Birthday
10y ANNE A. DowNELl....

Lie uCtie DIue SuuDOuu9tS were
bobbing round the corner.j Emily
Leonard took several impetuous
steps forward with a sudden soften
ing of her fretful face.
sRosyl Barbyw she called loud
ly, but the blue sunbonnets we're out
Of hearing. "And I sent 'em off
grieved again." the mother thought
regretfully. She could not get Bar
by's great round tears out of her
mind. Rosy never cried.
'1'm always cross roning days
and washing days and cooking and
sweeping days" Her set lip relax
ed into an unwilling smile that sat
upon them awkwardly, as if on un-
familiar ground. The confusion Of
the untidy kitchen repellcd her like
the push of a hand against her thin
breast. There was so much to be
done!
"Dishes, sweeping, lamp cleaning,
ironing, back breaking.7 she groan-
ed. Her unkempt hair and sallow,
worn face looked back at her from
the bit of dusty mirror as she cross
ed the room. She put up her hand
and swung the glass about with its
face to the wall with sharp cry.
The monotonous round of work
began and dragged itself on. It
was interrupted constantly by the
younger children with their impera-
tive needs Robbic's pinched fin
ger that must be bandaged and the
baby's milk that must be heated.
Then some one knocked at the door.
Emily twitched off her apron and
answered the knock.
"Good morning, ma'am. Is your
-er-son at home? Or maybe you
can answer my questions. I'm. the
census enumerator.
"No, can't" Emily said, rasped
beyond patience. IF you want ques-
tions answered, you've come to the
wrong place. Thaddcus is down in
the meadow. If you 60 along the
road piece, you'll see him moving.
He's got a blue jeans shirt on. I
guess he's got time enough; he usu-
ally has,"
She shut the door with little
decisive snap and went back to her
ironing board. But in the midst Of
smoothing out Rosy's little checked
gingham she suddenly dropped into
a chair and began to cry. She was
miserably tired. Half the preceding
night she had been awake with the
teething baby, and the other half
she had slept unrestfully.
ooh, dear! Oh, dearw she sob
bed, rocking herself back and forth.
"And it's my birthday! I can't bear
1t on my birthday-no, can't! /
want to sit in a rocking chair and
hear somebody else rafting the
dishes. I want to read book. I
want to rest. Just on my birthday
one day out of the whole year.
That isn't great deal to ask. But
nobody cares. Nobody's remember
ed what day it is. Pm to go right
on ironing clothes, and when they're
ironed I'm to wash the potatoes and
get dinner. That's how I'm to cele-
bratep
She was talking aloud in shrill,
sobbing voice, and the younger chill
dren sidled into the kitchen and
stood looking up at her with wide,
frightened eyes. She did not see
them at all.
Il did so wbnt somebody to re-
member. I wanted Thad tor she
walled miserably. sHe used to.
The IDEA Of hib forgetting twas nv
birthday theni Bnt now when I've
worked myself old and ugly and
haven't a minute to dress up and
look nice in-now he's forgotten. It
might just as well be the pope's
birthday for all Of Thad. Its the
9th of June; that's all. It's ironing
dayw
She laughed, and at the sound !
both tiny ones crept away from her
in terror. The hot little room seeth- |
ed with heat and buzzed with flies.
The iron left on Rosy's little dress
did its work slowly, and a slight |
scorched odor rose from under it. |
Still Emily Leonard sat and rocked |
herself and cried. She was too tired |
to stop. The pity of her unremem-
bered birthday supplied her with
running stream of tears. Suddenly j
she sat up straight and fierce.
fI'll remember it myse1fp she ,
cried brokenly. eff nobody else |
does, | will. I'll do something to |
celebrate"
Wild notions of running away and
spending the day somewhere in the
woods where it was still and cool, of
leaving the baby, the dinner, the
ironing, behind her or, better still,
of slipping on her best dress and |
taking the 10 o'clock train into the |