had come from the toy shop — and so, too, my husband knew that he was not forgotten in the family.

The mother who feels intellectual sufficiency in her child's company is no ideal mother, for she has forgotten her own age and ignored the fact that children's talk, charming as it is, does not fill the soul of a grown person — other-wise the widow would not seek a man her equal in mind and opin-ions, but would content herself with the company of her children.

By following this method of upbringing, I feel that I have

raised a good child, and I shall never be driven to say to Layla one day: "I sacrificed for your sake, and here I see you going off with your companions and leaving me" — for I do not feel my work to be a sacrifice, but a happy experience in my life. She has not begun piano lessons, but I bring her, without her knowing it, into a musical atmosphere; and I answer her questions about everything with patience and good cheer.

She receives all the makings of happiness — love and affection and understanding and knowledge and friendship — but no overflow-ing measure that would deprive

me of life with my husband. I sometimes think of becoming the mother who sacrifices everything, and it seems to me that this would be easier; but the parents' sacrifice is the real selfishness, for they think of society's view of them more than of their children's comfort.

So long as I want for my daughter a serene childhood, an orderly adolescence, and independence at maturity, I must keep apart from her, with a private life of my own, from this day forward — even if the world calls me: a selfish mother!