The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1880-12-02
PASSION in TATTERS.

own rosebuds," said Mr. Fitzhlan.
GIVE heard of her more than once, ="
returned Frank Calverly. ""The pretty
flower girl, the people call her, don't
they? Old Frixham has doubled his
custom since she came there"
''And the best of it ALL" added Fitza-
Ian, with O laugh, ''is that she is quite
unconscious of her own attractions-a
little country lassie, who thinks only of
her own business, and never dreams that
she herself is the sweetest flower of all
the assortment
'Tet's 60 in and buy Marechal Mel
leaves" said Calverly. ''I should like
to see this modern Flora of yours"
Dorothy Pon&eld stood behind the
counter of the florists store, sorting over
pile of fragrant blossoms which lay on
tray OF damp, green moss. Trails of
smllax wove their green garlands up to
the ceiling; heaps of gold and rose
petaled buds lay in the window; tufts of
purple heliotrope perfumed the air, and
white carnations lay like hillocks of snow
against the panes Of the show-window,
while spikes of perfumed hyacinths and
cape jessamine flung their subtle scents
upon the air.
And Dolly herself, with her round,
dimpled face, pink checks, and soft,
brown eyes, exactly the shade of the
rippled hair, which was brushed simply
back from the broad, low brow, was o
fitting accessory to the scene.
She looked up as the two gentlemen
entered, and soft, crimson shadow over
spread her face for second.
"Have you got one Of my favorite
button-hole bouquets made up, Miss
Penfeld?" Fitzalan asked, with acareless
bow and smile.
'T know" said Dolly, softly. ga
rosebud and sprig of heath, and two or
three myrtle leaves; that is what you
like. No; [ have none made UP, just at
present; but I can tie one up in about
half minute, Mr.. Fitzalan."
zone for me, too, if you please" said
Calverly, touching his hat.
"Just the same?"
Dolly lifted her long eyelashes, which
were like fringes of brown silk, and gave
him shy glance.
ga little different, please. Consult
your own taste, Miss Penfield."
"I like. the double blue violets," said
Dolly, gently, "with geranium leaves. !"
"Then they shall be my favorite flow
ers Also" said Calverly, gallantly.
The gentlemen had hardly taken their
leave, when old Frixham, the florist,
hustled in, with round, red face, shining
bald head, and an air of business all over
him.
"Isn't it time you had the theater bou-
quets ready?" said he, looking critically
around, and moving glass of freshly
cut callas out of the level sunset beams
which ut that moment fell, like sheen
of golden laces, athwart the deep bow
window"
"I shall have them ready directly"
said Dolly, starting from her reverie,
"the flowers are all sorted out"
"We have too many carnations on
band" said the florist fretfully; "and
those gaudy cape bells are so much dead
oss. Let the man from the greenhouses
know, please, there's demand for half
open rosebuds and forced ilies-of-th(
valley"
"Yes," said Dolly, drean1ily, ct vii
tell him-when he comes"
The closed country wagon with it,
freight of fragrant leaves and deliciouslJ
scented flowers, came early in the morn
ing, long before the fat florist was out of
enchanted land lay upon Upper Broad
way.
But Dolly Penfeld was there freshen.
ing up the stock of the day before with
wet moss and cool water, and clipping
the stems of the rosebuds.
"No more carnations, John," she said
briskly, "nor amaryllis flowers, and we
want plenty of camellias and geraniums,
and those bright flowers"
"I thought, perhaps" said honest
John Deadwood, who measured six feet
in his stockings, and had the face Of an
amiable giant, "you might want to &C
back with me to-day, Dolly. Your aunt
has come on from Kansas, and there j:
going to be dance out in the old barn
with plenty of candles and evergreen
boughs. And mother said she would bt
proud to welcome you to the old farm
house, Dolly. Your oleander tree il