St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1890-08-10
She LOVED MIGnONETTE.
1t Revealed the Romance in Foor Old
Lady's Life.
SHE PURCHASED FLOWERS
Instead of Food, for the Memories
They Brought Her Of
Jack"


An old lady passing slowly up Broad
way stopped at a flower stand in the
doorway of big store. She was not
an ordinary old lady, but it was very
plain that she and poverty had been for
some time very close friends.
She wore an old-fashioned bonnet OF
rusty black. 1t was mace Shaker
fashion, with cape. A lace veil with
a cord in it was tied over the top and
turned back from the face after the
manner of fifty years ago. From under
the bonnet fell two thin gray hairs. The
hair was parted smoothly at the top and
brushed away from the forehead.
All this detail you took in at a glance,
but when you peeped under the bonnet
al the face a glance was not enough. 1t
was such dear old face, and yet it
gave you a heartache, for the lines
about the thin, sensitive lips told an
eloquent story. They told of loneliness.
that was full of helpless wishes and
hopeless yearning. They told Of bitter
disappointments that had cruelty hurt
that tender soul, and they told of a
who needed or would accept it. The
eyes were blue and kindly, but there
was pleading look in them that went
straight to the heart. Her dress fell Ill
straight folds to her we'll patched shoes,
and her thin old shawl had evidently
been kept for years. Her hands had
been all toiled out of shape; you could
see the big Joints underneath her darned
gloves.
She stopped at the fower-stand be-
cause she saw there great bundle of
mignoDette. She looked at it with hun
CRY eyes. Then she leaned timidly for
ward and smelled it. what is the
price of it, please?"
twenty-five cents for big bunch,
ma am" said the fiower-vender. holding
it temptJngly near. The old lady hest
tated. She wanted it, oh so much, but
twenty-five cents
Let me tell you how much twenty-five
cents was to her. She made paper boxes
for a living at seven cents Dozen
When she worked steadily she earned
Si.75 a week. Out of this 81 was paid
for her room, and a Wretched little
place it was So you see that quarter
was lust one-third of her weeks living.
Her room was over in East Eighteenth
street. The box factory was away down
in Grand street. OF course she could
not ride, and the walk with the big pile
of boxes was often tiresome enough.
She wanted that mignouette, though.
She wanted it so much that she drew
out an old leather pocketbOOk and gave
the man a quarter.
s'I:I do without my Suppers for
week for the sake OF havin' 'em," she
said to herself. She had been alone so
much that she had fallen into the habit
of talking to herself. As she passed
down the street to the East side the
children ran after her. calling: "Give
me a tiower?" And like the dear old
soul she was. she gave little Sprig to
each one that asked for it.
After she had toiled slowly up all the
stairs to her tiny room she fastened to
put the flowers in an old-faShioned
china pitcher. Then she took off her
bonnet and shawl and put them care
fully away. She sat down close by the
flowers, drawing them tenderly to her
as mother does child whom she has
not seen for years. She buried her race
in the creamy bios SONS.
How much it brought back! The old
garden at home, with the bed of mignoii-
cite close under her window. She
stood there one night in blue cotton
gown while Jack tucked a spray of
mignonette behind her ear. "A pretty
contrast to the golden brown" he said.
Jack was the parsons son, aud knew
how to say pretty things.
1t wasn't long after this night that
Jack came to her with an angry look
upon his face, saying: Pm going away,
Sally. [ can't put up with fathers
harShnesS any longer. Ii you never see
me again you'll try to remember me
kindly, won't you?'
She never did see him again, and she
,11ll fhat in oil no
she never had another lover From the
time she left the old home life had
meant only toll and prlvation and lone
| Illness. But tonight, as she looked at
| the mignonette, it all came back to her.
She was girl again, and Jack was with
her. By and by she began to nod. The
| perfume and the pleasant memories
| combined to make her sleepy. So she
| went to bed, and, like child, she took
| the flowers with her.
+ ssThey're sight of comfort, and Pm
| glad bought 'em," she said to herself.
They're sight 5etter'n supper. an
anyway L don't feel hungry. Somehow
| hain't been so comfortable for long
| time" And then the dear old lady
went to sleep.
The next afternoon the nelghbors
came in to see why she was so quiet.
| They found her still asleep with a salts
fed smile upon her lips. The room was
filled with the odor of mignonette. She
was dead.
''She starved herself, most likely, for
the sake of buyin' them flowers" said a
Manufactured woman, with a touch Of
Impotence in her voice.
Later in the day little child who had
loved her erept timidly into the room.
The Withered hands still held the bunch
OF mignonette, and the little one, stand
ing on tlp-toe, said softly:
wasn't it nice that Aunt Sally had
the posies?'