I supposed
him perverse and impossible of pleasing. I _knew I_ had tried my best
(according to my lights, which it had not occurred to me to doubt), but
it never entered my cranium that _he_ had tried, too. I looked upon the
outward appearance--my immaculate appearance, met by fault-finding or
indifference I Poor me! Perverse he!
Poor Martha, troubled about many things, when only one thing is
needful--a quiet mind and faithful soul. History does not state if
Martha had a husband. If she did, he was perpetually downtown. And Jesus
preferred Mary, the Comfortable One, to Martha. Poor lonesome Martha!
And she tried _so hard_ to please.
I used to know a woman who never did a thing but look sweet. She was
pretty and sympathetic and _cheery_. Her husband and six children
idolized her, and fairly fell over themselves to please her and keep the
home beautiful for her. There was physical energy galore lavished
_gladly_ by the family, in doing what is commonly considered the
mother's work.
And there was apparently nothing whatever the matter with that woman,
who was always sweet and pretty as a new blown rose, and looked not a
day over twenty. She was simply born tired and wouldn't work.
Pages:
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42