Elisabeth Sanxay Holding

“ Robert was waiting for them there. He came forward, with a faint frown, and pushed into place two hairpins that were slipping out of Molly's hair. It was the most trifling action, yet it seemed to Mrs. Champney very significant. He didn't like to see those hairpins falling out, didn't like to see Molly's lovely, shining hair in disorder. He noticed things of that sort, and he cared. He cared too much. There had been a look of annoyance and displeasure on his face that distressed Mrs. Champney.
Fussiness, she thought, was one of the most deplorable traits a man could have. ”

“ Champney did. She knew that Robert had been trying to tell his mother that Molly could do even better than this—that she could, if she chose, sing the most prodigious songs. He was afraid that his mother would judge and condemn Molly for that darned silly song about “the flowers all nodding on yonder hill.”
“That's what being a mother-in-law really means,” said Mrs. Champney to herself. “It means being the third person, the one who stands outside and sees everything—all the poor, pitiful little faults and weaknesses. Love won't help. ”

“ Champney. On the contrary, they filled her with a strong and tender delight, because of her knowledge that whatever troubles came to them, she could surely help; because, for babies, a kiss is a cure for so much, and a song can dry so many baby tears; because love, which must so often stand mute and helpless before grown-up misery, can work such marvels for little children. ”

“ In his superb arrogance he looked upon his mother somewhat as he looked upon the sun. She existed solely for him. He adored her and he needed her—that was why she existed. Mrs. Champney did not trouble to explain. He would learn soon enough how very many other people there were in this world, and that it was not his own world and his own sun at all. In the meantime, let him make the most of it. She said that they would surprise mother, and the idea appealed to Bobbetty. ”

“ Champney,” she said, with a sigh. “My, how empty the room does look!”
So Mrs. Champney kissed the old ladies and went downstairs. The two servants were waiting in the hall to say good-by to her. She smiled at them. Then the landlady opened the front door, and Mrs. Champney went out of the house, still smiling, went down the steps, and got into the taxi.
She sat up very straight in the cab, a valiant little figure, dressed in her best shoes, with spotless white gloves, and her precious sable stole about her shoulders—and such pain and dread in her heart! ”

“ Robert insisted doggedly. “You've been tricked and swindled by that contemptible fellow; but Frank and I are going to see that it's made right!”
“Oh, Robert! You're not going to do anything to that poor, miserable, distracted man?”
“Nothing we can do. You gave the fellow a free hand, and he took advantage of it. No, I mean that Frank and I are going to make it up to you, mother.”
He might as well have added “at any cost.” Mrs. Champney winced in spirit, but at the same time she loved him for his blundering tenderness, his uncomprehending loyalty. ”

“ If only she could let go, and be frail and helpless, and allow her children to take care of her! They would be so glad to do it—they would be so dear and kind!
“Shame on you, Jessica Champney!” she said to herself. “You weren't an old lady before you came here, and you're not going to be one now. You're only fifty, and you're well and strong. There must be any number of things a healthy woman of fifty can do. Find them!”
And then, as if by inspiration, she thought of Emily Lyons.
The next morning, as soon as Robert had gone, she told Molly that she wanted to “see about something” ”

“ With that amount, and with what was left of her income, she could manage to live by herself, somewhere near Robert and Molly, where she could see them and the baby often, and yet be independent. Once more she could be a fairy godmother—with sadly clipped wings, to be sure, but still able to bestow a little gift now and then.
She thought she would get something for Bobbetty now, and she bought one of the nicest gray plush animals imaginable. The saleswoman said it was a cat, but Mrs. Champney privately believed it to be a dog, because of its drooping ears. ”

“ Nobody can be let alone except those who would give all the world for a little tiresome interference. Molly saw at once how tired she was, and wanted her to lie down and have dinner brought up to her. Robert, by saying nothing at all, was still more difficult to endure.
“I'm not particularly tired, Molly, thank you,” said Mrs. Champney, with great politeness. ”

“ Champney told him, anyhow.
“Bobbetty,” she said, “there's a Lucy Stone League for women who don't want to use their husbands' names. I believe I'll start a Jessica Champney League for women who refuse to be called mothers-in-law. There's really no such thing as a mother-in-law, Bobbetty. It's just a joke, and a very nasty one. Really and truly, Bobbetty, there are nothing but mothers-in-nature. I think I'll invent some other word. Why not 'husbandsmother,' or 'wifesmother,' or—”
Molly appeared before her, evidently in great distress. ”

“ When Molly is careless, Robert will imagine that I'm blaming her, and he'll feel ashamed of her. That's why mothers-in-law make trouble. It's not because they always interfere, or because they're troublesome and domineering. It's because they see all the little things that nobody ought to see—the little things that would never grow important if a third person wasn't there. I used to feel so sorry for mothers-in-law. I used to think it was a vulgar, heartless joke about their making trouble. A joke? Oh, it's the worst, most horrible joke in the world—because it's true!”
IV
Mrs. ”

“ I can't go away and leave Robert and Molly alone together. They'll never be alone together any more—there's Bobbetty. I can help so much! They're both so very, very young, and I could do so much! Molly could have time for music. There are two buttons off Bobbetty's underwaist. Mother-in-law, indeed! ”

“ Here was Molly, busy with the vital needs of life, with food and clothes, with the care of their child; and she herself was going to work in the Needlecraft Shop.
She had to tell them, of course. When they were all seated at the table, she did so, in the most casual, matter-of-fact way.
It was even worse than she had feared. Robert grew very white.
“You mean—a job?” he asked.
“It's charitable work, really,” Mrs. Champney explained. “The foreign-born women bring their needlework to the shop, and we sell it on commission for them. ”

“ She took the bag from Robert, who had just come in, and ran up the stairs. Mrs. Champney followed her. All the little house seemed warm and bright with Molly's beautiful, careless spirit. It wasn't strange or awkward. It was like coming home; and the room that Molly had got ready for her was so pretty!
“Dinner's all ready,” said Molly; “but—if you'll just take one look at Bobbetty. He's—when he's asleep, he's—”
Words failed her.
Mrs. Champney got herself ready as quickly as she could, and followed Molly down the hall to a closed door. ”

“ He was sitting in his high chair in the kitchen, while Molly cooked the dinner. He was almost austerely neat and clean after his bath, and he was eating a bowl of Graham crackers and milk, with a large bib tied under his chin. A model child—yet, in the sidelong glance of his black eyes in the direction of the new bowwow, who was not to be touched until supper was finished, Mrs. Champney saw a thoughtful and alarming gleam. Bobbetty was not quite sure whether he would continue being good, or whether it would be nicer suddenly and violently to demand the bowwow. Mrs. ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1955, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 68 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”