Judsonia weekly advance., 1916-07-12
X MISTAKEN GOAL
By MELLA M'cALLUM.

Mary Moon was bitterly disappoint- ed. As she laid down her daughters letter, the one hope of her life seemed frustrated. And all because pretty Con stance Moon had written home from college that she was engaged to d certain young rhetoric instructor. It sounded harmless enough, surely, but to Mary it spelled tragedy.
 For Mary herself had married young and rashly. Five years she had lived with John Moon. Then, after mark edly protraeted spree, he had merci- fully died. Then and there, she had vowed manless existence thenceforth. She had three dollars in money and a two-year-old baby girl, but she something else as well-a fierce ue- termination.
 At first she worked at anything she could get to keep them alive. But she had fair education, and, after while, she managed to secure a dis tlict school. She made an excellent teacher. She saved money tiercely. For by that time she had made up her mind to climb high in the teach CTS profession.
 After three years Mary had saved enough to pay for one year at nor mal school, and thither they went. At the end of the year, although her money was nearly gone, Mary had made up her mind to stay.
 Three years more, and Mary had fin ished her course. She got her life certificate and good position.
 Years passed-happy ones. Mary's corners were all smoothed down now. She had independence, social position, and a beautiful, sunny-natured quick minded daughter. Constance finished high school easily, and was at last sent to college.
 Mary answered the girls glowing let ters, telling of her engagement, in a manner which she fancied thoroughly diplomatic. But when Constance finally came home, even Mary gasped at the vision. Always lovely, the girl was now glorified with mist of dreams But that did not deter Mary. She made up her mind to break off the match, and save Constance from what she firmly believed would prove disaster.
 But for the first time in her life Mary ran against an impossible snag. Constance was well-nigh i'm enveloped in the armor of dreams.
 At last Mary's cautious campaign collapsed, and she lost control of her self.
 For twenty years l have fought to put you where you are. You have edu- cation, culture, and good looks. You are better equipped to earn money than most men. Your future is insured. And this is the thanks I get!
 T want more than money, mother. want home of my own, and-hap- piness. The cares that come with it I'm willing to accept"
 And that was all. Mary pleaded in vain against the wall of reserve the girl built around herself. Vacation passed distressfully. Constance went back to college for her final year. The year dragged through wearily toward June and the hateful wedding.
 Constance was to graduate on the fifteenth and be married on the twenty fifth. Mary made up her mind to go on for the events if it killed her.
 But Mary Moon was game. She had some unusually pretty dresses made and paid an extravagant price for q suit and hat For she had been in- vited to stay at the home of the groom, and she resolved to make a credtable in spite of the grief in her heart. She knew that Leonard Ames' father was old Doctor Ames of Latin textbook fame, and that Mrs. Ames was prominent socially in the college town. They should not be ashamed of Constance's mother.
 They were not ashamed. Mary made an excellent impression, with her at tractive toilets and her vivacious intel ligence
 Then the wedding guests began to arrive. New people to meet-to play llp to!
 The night before the wedding, Con- stance inquired guardedly, How do you like Leonard, mother?"
 "Very much" replied Mary sincerely. "I am proud to have you know and be known by such people, dear"
 (Which do you like best of the wom- en, mother-the married ones or the old maidsY" Constance inquired mis- 
 "Why, I think the-the married ones," said Mary, uncomfortably aware that Constance was taking ad- vantage of her inability to quibble.
 You don't dislike Leonard, do you, mother?"
 "N--no." It was more choke than a spoken word.
 Constance saw Mary's agonized face in the glass. She whirled around with a little triumphant laugh. Better own up you're beaten, mother, darling" she said.
 Mary began to cry, although she was not a crying woman. Constance's arms went about her softly. Mother, pre-