The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1879-05-08
BUT FOR THIS.
"Millicent, Millicent, when is sup

lhtH, Sdiu llJlIe Jane DlhtT, sOIemnly.
"Really think you had" said Mill
cent, in a soft tone.
There she sat, staring into the little
fire on which their last atom of wood
was burning and seeing in the red ashes
into which the light wood dropped SO
quickly, pictures of the past. They had
never been rich people, but always COM
Portable.
Her father was seafaring map-frst
mate of an ocean vessel--and her mother
tidy housewife, who made everything
bright and cozy. How he used to sit
telling his adventures to them when he
was at home.
He would not have been a sailor had
there not been sea serpents and mer-
maids in them, but nothing was too won
derful for those loving folk at home to
credit and indeed he probably believed
them himself.
The rooms had been pretty with shells
and coral branches, and bright parrots in
swinging cages and pictures of ships upon
the wall.
1t had been so different from this
wretched place in which the two girls
now lived.
But that was not all; the love was
gone, the tender care that parents have
for their children.
The mother lay in her green grave
in far off cemetery; and who can
point the place of shipwrecked sailors
grave?
Sue remembered so well how he sailed
away that last time; how they looked
after him, her mother and herself; how
they waited for news, and waited in vain,
until at last there came to them a sailor
saved from the wreck of the "Flying
Scud," who told how he went down in
mid-seas at the dead of night, ablaze
from one end to the other; and how
Roger Blair, the first mate, was among
the missing.
After that, poverty and sorrow; de-
parture from the dear old home; toll in
a strange city, sickness, friendlessness,
and, crowning woe of all, the mothers
death.
The girl had done her best for her lit
tie sister ever since, but she was not
very skillful needIewoman, and could not
earn AS much as some others; and now
work had given out altogether, and she,
pretty and sweet and good, and helpful
in daughterly way about the house,
was not quite sure that she could win
bread for two in any way-bread and
shelter and fire.
She was only seventeen, and frail
little creature, with very little strength
in her small body, and now that matters
were so bad, who can wonder that she
almost despaired?
81 suppose it isn't quite supper time
yet" said little Jane again. She had
been on her knees behind the bed for a
long while. 81 wonder whether He
knows how hungry ann?
"What shall / do?" said Millicent to
herself, as she looked about the room.
Il have sold everything-the clock, the
books, even mothers work-box and the
parrot. There is nothing left. The child
will starve before mo ming, Oh, what
shall | do?"
She arose and went to the window, and
looked down into the street. 1t was
dirty and narrow, and swarmed with
filthy children.
Opposite was a little drinking shop,
about which a blind man with fiddle
drew protitlcss audience.
Nothing sweet or fresh or pure met her
eye there, but between that scene and
herself sudden breeze blew beautiful
screen, and there was waited to her
through the broken glass an exquisite
perfume.
On the sill without stood rose in a
broken teapot,
She had picked up the slip among the
rubbish cast out by neighboring gar
dener, and it had grown well in its hand
full of earth.
To-day it had bloomed; perfect rose,
exquisite in shape, perfume and color,
dropped from the stem, and beside it a
half-blown bud gave promise of another
flower as lovely.
Until this moment Millicent, in her
anxiety, had forgotten her own treasure.
But for gentle shower that had fallen
that morning it might have withered
where it stood, for she had not even
watered it.
Now bright thought fitted through
her mind.
She had often seen children selling
flowers in the street. and ladies and gen
tlemen seemed glad to buy them.
She would force herself to be cour-
ageous.
She would go out into the street with
+b ;s r,so AVID IT. bu1 and soma ,no unulJ
give her enough to buy a loaf of bread, or
at least a roll for little Jane.
She would do it-she would.
God would give her strength.
She tied on her hood and wrapped her
shawl about her, and plucking the flower
and leaf OF two, and that bright bud,
that seemed perhaps the fairer of the two,
babe Jane be good and wait for her. and
went down stairs and out from the dingy
cross street into Broadway.
There everyone save herself seemed
gay and happy and well dressed.
She seemed to be a thing apart-a
black blot in all this brightness.
She stood at the corner and held out
her flower, but it seemed that none
needed her.
At last she gathered courage to touch
one of the ladies that passed, and sa:
"Buy rose, lady; buy rose? Please
buy rose"
But the woman hurried by as the rest
had.
II would not do to stand still.
She walked out slowly.
Whenever she caught pleasant eye
she held out her bouquet and repeated
her prayer: