The Monmouth inquirer. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1865-1933, 1925-07-02
At the End Of
the Day

scured June sun.
Before the open door Frances stood
at long board ironing. Under her
deft hands damp embroidery, lace
and frills bloomed out in snowy crisp
ness. She was ironing a dress for
Fanny, VINO must have it to wear to a
party that night. Upon the clothes
rack hung two much-trimmed petit
coats which were TO go with it.
Frances had to admit that it took
great deal of hard work, as well as
planning and sacrifice, to keep her
daughter well dressed and in the best
set when her means were so limited.
Frances wore little percale dress
Of black and white. She looked little
more than a girl herself, with her
curling hair and moist, flushed face.
Yet she was SO and she felt 83 some
times, and this happened to be one of
the times.
All day yesterday she had sewed,
without ceasing, for Fanny; and to-
day she was ironing She had always
hated to iron. 1t seemed a kind of
undeserved penance that she must al
ways be doing the things she did not
like to do.
She had not wanted to marry Tom
Keene, but her father had made her,
because he thought Tom Keene. would
be able to make a great deal of money.
She was young, and she thought her
father knew best, so she gave up
Maurice Hall and took her fathers
choice.
Her marriage had turned out badly
Tom had got into bad ways, had taken
to drink, and had finally been killed
because he didn't know enough to
drive horse properly.
When that happened, Frances took
her little daughter, Fanny, and went
| home to her father Three years later
her father died, leaving her the little
house they lived in and just enough
money to support it.
AS Fanny grew into girlhood Fran
ces turned over more of their slender
means to her daughter Girls needed
so much and wanted so much more
than they needed. Fanny was pretty
and popular. she was always being
asked about and always going. she
had the normal girls fondness for fun
and activity.
Frances sewed and planned and
economical in order to supply her
daughter with pretty clothes. AS for
herself, what did it matter what she
wore? No one noticed her. She tried
to find her happiness in Fannys.
Yet, sometimes when she was tired
and consequently trife morbid, it
came to her that Fanny had good
deal of Toms selfshness in her make
up.
The iron having cooled over that
last frill, she carried it back TO Tie
range to replace it with a hot o4e.
While her back was turned came
sudden gush Of voices and young
laughter-Fannys voice and Fanny's
Notwithstanding with deep
masculine tones Frances turned,
just as her daughter radiant in her
pink Bingham frock and wide hat, ran
up the steps.
I've nearly pounded the front door
down, mama" she complained gayly,
land you never heard You must be
getting deaf. I'm going over to the
Omissions to play game of tennis,
and Ora wants me to stay to lunch.
So don't look for me back till you see
me-"
She smiled into her mothers tired
face. Frances color. due mainly to
the heat, had faded, and beside
Fanny's sparkling girlishness she
looked old and worn. She felt her in
adequacy and her eyes went piteousIy
from her daughter to her daughters
companion-a young man with keen
eyes and brown skin.
1t was her old lover, Maurice Hall,
lately returned from long sojourn in
the mining country, where it was said
he had made some money. He gave
her grave greeting. to which she re-
sponded coldly.
1t came to her that there was some
thing laughably incongruous in the
fact that Maurice should be her
daughters admirer Yet he was, not
an unsuitable one. He had not
changed as she had. He had hung on
to his youth somehow, while she
looked faded and tired and old
Fanny was hurrying him off and
Frances resolutely turned her at
tention to her ironing.
But as he went down the walk she
saw him stoop and take pansy from
her little pansy bed. OF course he did
not remember but once. long ago, he
had picked a pansy from that same
bed and twisted it in her hair He
had cared very much for her then, she
thought. He had ceased to care, now
but the woman had not.
Frances strength seemed suddenly
to have deserted her and she had to
sit down before she could finish her
ironing. When at last the elaborate
dress of embroidery and lace was
hung upon the rack beside the petit
coats 1t was lunch time, but she was
too tired and hot to eat