Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1889-06-21
TIfREE ROSES.

Mrs Brown was out in her front door
yard clipping dead leaves from the rose
bushes aud fastening the branches in place
This was a part of her spring gardening
which was always attended 10 before the
lawn was raked or the flower-b beds were
made To many women these little tasks
are unpleasant Interruptions Of house clean
ing time, but Mrs Brown thoroughly en-
juyed being out in the scented air and pale
April sunshine with birds calling love
notes to each other and softest of south
winds whispering buds to leaf and blossom,
and now she moved serenely about clip
ping here leaf and there a twig like a
gloved and sun bonneted Flora of these
practical modern days, the snip of whose
pruning shears promised fresh horticultural
glories.
When ali except one of the bushes were
properly trimmed and fastened, Mrs. Brown
surveyed this last one with indecison. 1t
was tall and scraggly and very thorny.
| Three years before Cousin Jennie had
brought this bush from Boston, with the
promise that if it was set in a sunny rich
spot and well tended in due season it would
put forth the most beautiful roses in the
United States But although Mrs. Brown
had devoted more time 10 this bush of
promise than to any other of her garden
shrubs, not even one bud had appeared to
reward her faithful care.
I've a mind to let it 90 now and attend
TO it some more convenient day. Mrs.
Brown reflected. 1t won't blossom any
way, and it's so near noon l really ought
not to stop another minute"
So the hungry shears we're carried into
the house and the disappointing bush left to
10 ,,ia 30
convenient day" is so often missing from
the calendar of busy housewives.
The subtle perfume and ''purple prom
se' Of budding April had rpened into the
perfect fulness of summer. June tinted
the skies and showed whole meadows white
with daisies. In the farm house yard rose
bushes bent beneath their wealth of buds
and newly opened bloom, and every breeze
scattered the grass with petals of the first
blown roses, their dying breath filling the
air with perfumes sweet as odors of Araby
the blest
Lottie Brown, starting on her walk of a
mile to the village academy, stopped to pick
some blush roses for her teacher, that
sweet Miss Glare"
Mamma" she called in through the
open sitting room window, the Boston
at last we shall see what color it blossoms
Aud if they are out in time | shall wear
them on graduation day
The tall, slim figure tripped off the pink
sprigged muslin skirts fluttering out of
| sight around the turn of the road as Mrs.
Brown came out to look at the Boston rose
buds A handsome team was coming up
| the hill, and she watched as it turned the
| road her daughter had gone.
"If there isn't viii Bennett OF course
| he will ask Lottie to ride to school, as he is
going her way. | wish he wouldn't hap
pen along so often. He will he putting all
sorts of nonsense into the childs head, and
! | can't tell her not to ride with him for
that would seem as if thought his atten
tions particular, and she hasn't yet thought
Of such thing
a short whoa" and cramping Of
wheels came to Mrs Browns ears, and she
could see the spirited chestnuts head i'm
patiently tossed above the wall which hid
! l.otte from view. There was pause long
enough to exchange greetings and ques
ton or two, a glimpse of jaunty sun hat
as the wearer was assisted into the vehicle,
the restve steed champed his bits, pranced
at being reined in, and then the shining
top buggy was borne away in a cloud of
dust Mrs. Brown bent disturbed face
over the rose bush 1t is SO perplexing to
possess remarkably pretty daughter just
at the age to attract masculine attention
and yet too young to receive it.
How rapidly those buds grew. Lottie
watched them anxiously, fearing they
would not open for graduation evening
Day by day the green sheaths pushed wider
apart deep tint showed between, and one
morning three dark red roses unfolded 10
| the sun with dew-dTops like angel chrism
shining ON their velvet petals. How beau
tiful they were How delicious their per.
fume Cousin Jennie's praise was not half
extravagant enOugh-LOttie felt sure they
were the most beautiful roses in the world
Wont they look lovely ON my new dress
to o-mOrrow ~ Lottie was sitting in the
front door, her mother behind her in a light
rocker. Cool breezes swept through the
wide hall drifting in sweetness from the
garden shrubs and blowing some escaping
wisps from Lotties long plat into little
careless curls about her face. Edith Ira
cy is to wear red flowers, too. Her nun S
yelling is made Just like my serge, mann
ma, and she had a Boston modiste to do the
fitting. But think mine will look as well
if it was cut by our village dress make err.
! Won't you feel proud of me though when
step upon the platform and after a grace
full dancing school bow-Edith taught me
that-say my little say, the honorable rGie,
Just think, mamma of me being valedictO-
rian And wouldn't it be just dreadful il
| should get confused as Jane Deane did
last year shall be glad when its safely
Over-my farewell, | mean. The best part
of the whole evening will be the entertain
ment after the prizes are given. l can
hardly wait for tomorrow, thinking of il
all. "
Her mother smiled the smile of quiet
middle age at the enthusiasm of exuberant
youth. Lottie looked away from the west
ern sky, tinted with sunset, to see some
one in plain dark dress coming around the
turn"
"There is Miss Ann Champney-she i,
bound to stop here, l know. How queer
she always looks-and it would take so few
touches TO give her less of an ante Noah s
flood appearance. Lotties eyes rested med
itatively ON the hat lying in her lap, Just q
simple black poke of 50-ceut straw, trim
med by her own skilful fingers with white
null and white pigeons wings, yet with an
air of fashionable jauntiness about it which
had elected compliment from Will Ben
nett 81 wonder if when Miss Ann was
girl any one told her that her things looked
pretty. Yes, she is coming here-l'll rur
away before she sees me.
Mrs. Brown arose aud received her call
or cordially. Miss Ann was heroine il
her eyes, for she knew her quiet woman
life story and recognized under her prim
ness one of the truest hearts that ever beat
There are many such heroines about us ev
erywhere, whose manifold self denials an,
ministrations make longer list in the rec
ord of golden deeds than the daring of
Grace Darling or Joan of Are, hut thei
bravery is AS unknown 10 the world as b
themselves, Miss Ann had no thought o
heroism when she had broken her troth b
assume the burden of an invalid brother
duty turned her from her lovers tende