Due apparently to financial stringency we rent some of the rooms in our hometown home. One of the renters in Blanche V, a tall, slender, virtuous maiden. I see her emerge from her room, dressed all in white and looking elegant indeed. We do not speak. She walked toward front door. On my way to the kitchen I see my brother but do not speak. In the kitchen I find Mamma ironing. She has already ironed almost a large clothes basket full. A wave of hatred against fate and human beings, who seem to have conspired to make things hard for my mother, sweeps over me. I feel she has been most unfairly treated, and this is all the more galling because of my helplessness to lighten her burdens. I say to her, "Every way I turn is a stone wall." Mamma smiles, I get down on my knees and beg her to rest twice a day (during morning and afternoon), regardless of the amount of work there was waiting to be done, and she agreed that this would be necessary if she was to keep going.