St. Landry democrat., 1884-10-25

no one in that busy center had ever seen
Jaeob Cattley spend penny piece on
anything; but once away from the city
/ proper, and hurrying away toward
Rlackfriars Bridge-on the Surrey side
of which he lived, and which he crossed
regularly twice day to and from his
''plaee Of business any one who had
taken tho trouble to watch hinl-which
no one ever had-would have seen
jacob somewhere in the neighborho2d
of Ludgate Hill bargaining with Polly
Baxter for nosegay every Saturday
| afternoon.
Jacob Cattley would even condescend
TO patronize Polly Baxter, and to occa-
sionally pass remark upon the wealth
| er, or the extent of her stock in trade;
but all this was done in an austere,
stand offish way, which did not encour.
age conversation in return, and which
was washed-out copy of the great
Goldchest manner, when the big bank
err skated across the pavement to his
carriage Polly Baxter did not know
this, and thought it was very kind Of
the old gentleman in the queer-looking
comforter to say word or bow to her
now and then--words which, with all
their GOODNESS, had little ring in them
of interest o" sympathy, or something
not easy to comprehend, and which the
flower girl did not attempt in any way
to account for. Sometimes she Won
dered why he bought her flowers, or
what he did with them after he got
home; he was so particular about the
bunch he purchased, and had SO strong
fancy for the brightest colors.
Suddenly Jacob Cattley was missed
from Lombard street, and from the
neighborhood of Ludgate Hill; and Pol
| " Bakers basket blushed with flowers
in vain for him. Every day Polly Bax-
ter had been accustomed to see him be-
tween four and five trotting homeWard,
with his sharp face set due south; every
day he had said: "Good morning." in
a grave, fatherly way, and with a sol
emn bend of his long neck; and on Sat
urdays, as we have intimated, he al
ways stopped to bargain with her for
her gayest penny-worth. And now
Jacob was missing; and no one knew
where Jacob lived, so that the mystery
of his disappearance might have been
solved by friendly call.
'.He's dead. for sixponce, poor old
coven" said the junior clerk, pert and
slangy and over dressed youth, whom
Jacob had in his heart disliked, despite
the offering of penny now and then.
" He's of, depend upon it. I'm sorry
was hard on him last week. =
Polly Baxter wondered more about
him than the rest of the community
aware of his existence She did not
know why she should 'bother about the
old man." but she did He was
something removed from her life, a
regular customer gone; and that was to
be regretted when regular customers
were scarce. When she had bought
her flowers at Covent Garden Market
in the early morning, and had taken
them to the little attic where she made
UP her penny punches for the day, she
caught herself thinking of the funny
little man. and of his grave, old-fash-
Toned ways. She had had father like
him once in some respects, and he had
died in the workhouse, praying that she
would keep good which she had.
Polly was poor, ignorant girl enough.
who had never been Taught to read and
write. and her father had been - bad
lot, rs it was termed, and had not
cared to see her taught, or cared much
about anything save himself, until he
had become q martyr to rheumatism
and had lost his situation in the mar
ket. and had to go finally into the
house, leaving bis daughter with ell the
world to herself and nobody in it to
look after her Their the father was
sorry and woke up to some little
thought of his motherless girl, when he
could do little else but think. He was
one more of the big army Of plodders
who march under the banner Of 50 Too
late.
Nevertheless, Polly Baxter earned
her own living honestly, and made the
best of her position by thrift and IN
dustry, coming very close to starvation
once or twice in the hard times which
win turn up to the hard workers. Still
she fought on, and had begun to teach
herself to read and write of late days,
and to find her way ON Sundays to a
little chapel down back street, and /
listen with much surprise to what they /
told her there, and wonder why it had |
been kept from her all these years, and |
why no one in the highways and |
byways of her life had said word
about it.
Possibly thinking of this mad made
her think of other folk as the light fill
tered little through the darkness of
Polly Bakers life; but she did think a
great deal of the poor, old-fashioned
little man, who seemed to have van
ished like ghost, and it became a
matter of speculation why he had ever
bought flowers of her at all, being q
man who probably had not much to
spend on the minor Injuries of life,