Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1884-02-06
UNDER MY WINDOW.

the two old people whose touching story
! am going TO tell you. And yet in a
certain way | had known them for
months. You see the bay window in my
little corner room looks right down upon
their quaint, old-fashioned garden, and
ever since we took possession of our suit
OF rooms, last spring, | have enjoyed the
pretty bit of ground, as If it were my
own. There is certain fascination, too,
in wondering about ones neighbors; and
when, one mild March day, | ran to the
window to assure myself / had actually
heard robin, stopped to notice a pale
faced, white-haired woman, who was
looking for something down among the
dead leaves by the garden walk.
"Shc has dropped her thimble out of
the window, or may be her glasses"
said to myself But no, she had not
dropped anything; she was simply look
ing for snow-drops, and few minutes
later saw her 90 her go back to the house
with her hands full of the delicate, white
beauties.
An old man met her at the door, and I
could see them smiling and talking over
their treasures like two children.
Instantly felt II strong bond of SYM
patty between the dear old couple and
myself. | wanted to tell them had seen
my first robin high up on their tall
horsc-chestnut tree. was sure they
would be glad to know.
The lovely spring days came OH apace
and the old gentleman always attended
by large Maltese caD began TO prune
and scrape his apple-trees, rake up the
dead leaves, and overturn the moist,
brown, hower-beds.
| threw open all my windows, TO drink
the delicious earthly odors-always sug-
gestive Of violets, dim messy woods and
running brooks; and when the little plot
Of ground was planted | knew where
every seed was dropped and watched as
eagerly as my neighbors for the first green
shoots.
"Thim be twin brother and sister, thin
two,' said my loquacious washerwoman,
one day. "And they lives quite alone by
thimsilves, ma'am. The old lady does all
her own work, even her washin', if yer'll
behave me, ma'am; so stingy as some
folks be-" she muttcred to herself, as she
went on with her scrubbing.
| closed the door abruptly might
say in Mrs. Mulligan's face. What right
had she, a coarse, gossiping Irish woman,
to talk over the affairs of my dear old
people?
Nevertheless, | was glad to CLEAN a bit
of information concerning them; they
were brother and sister, not husband and
wife, as | had imagined. Perhaps, then,
this curious old house where they lived
was the very one in which they were
born. Had they always lived together
were there other brothers and sisters,
wondered. And then, with somewhat OF
the same feeling that leads one to puzzle
over the post-mark of an envelope before
breaking the seal, / asked no questions,
but kept on wondering.
How beautiful the old garden looked that
bright May day! The apple trees-I
could almost touch them from my win
dow-were weighted down with their
pink and white blossoms, and flame
winged orioles whistled merrily to one
another, as they fitted from bough to
bough. Purple pansies, yellow daffodils
and gay red tulips peeped in and out
among the stiff, straight rows of fragrant
box, and saucy dandelions dotted the
trim, grassy borders with charming irreg-
ularity.
Kate Edmonds, my energetic little
friend on the Flower Committee, had
Just dropped in for a half-hour's chat,
and, as her eye fell on the wilderness OF
blossoms beneath my window, she ex.
claimed:
"Dear me- What waste. Don't you
think those good neighbors of your,
would send some of their flowers to the
Hollis-Strect Chapel, if we asked themT'
l looked at the audacious Kate in
amazement.
"They are perfect strangers to me-"
began, and"
"Oh that doesn't matter in the least"
interrupted Kate. "Tm on the 'Asso-
ciated Charities you know, and used To
calling on strangers. Come, put on your
hat, and we'll go over there at once. To.
morrow, Thursday, is one of our days fol
distributing the flowers; so there isn't a
bit of time to lose."
OF course yielded to the point, for,
when Kate makes up her mind to do q
thing it Is useless to argue against her.
Together we walked up the garden.
path, and, with somewhat trembling hand
] lifted the bright brass knocker.
The dear old lady came herself to the
door, and the sudden CLEAN of sunlight
that fell upon her snow-white hair made
me think Of the aureole of a saint.
"Thee will come in--thee and thy
friendT she said to Kate, who had
agreed to do the talking.
ooh! no, thank you. We have only
come upon matter of business, or rather
Of charity" began my friend; and then,
In her usual direct way, she told the old
lady about the Flower Mission at the
Hollis-Street Chapel, how much good the
little bouquets were doing among the
sick and the poor, and how grateful the
committee would be for any contribu.
tons she could spare from her lovely gar
den.
A sunny smile lighted up the pale
face
"Thce Is more than welcome TO my
poor. old-fashioned poses. ] only wish