The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1890-01-04
MIllY's NosEcAY.
A story Of Life among london's
Workers.
Temple Bar.

no one had ever called her anything else
only Milly.
She made her scanty living by en-
broidcry, residing in a forlorn looking,
dark and narrow room that was yet
fortunate enough to boast one small win
dow on the street. Ay, that window was
Milly's glory; the joy and delight of her
existence. The street was a dingy Lon
don one; hardly thoroughfare, and
therefore not. noisy, but gay, and even
delectably worldly, in the child's eyes.
For she was not much more than child
rs yet; though worn in face and serious
looking, she was young in years, scarce
IL surely at most, while in character she
was very childish still. London bred,
she was shrewd and quick in many
things, keenly alive to the necessity of
daily work, thoroughly, cxpectant of the
money loving ways of her employers
and astute with regard to life generally;
nevertheless, fund Of freshness and in
nocence in Alilly's soul was wont often
10 burst forth like sweet, pure spring
Of water coming from depths unknown,
ready to gladden. and solace the arid
hearts Of her neighbors.
She was friendly TO those neighbors,
who, some of them, .beffiended her. But
she had always been much alone. She
was almost like q prisoner, this little
lame and feeble bodied seamstress, or
rather embroideress, who spent her I'M
cared for youth bending .oyer a frame of
needlework, carrying out the ideas and
designs of others-only occasionally, as
a rare luxury, allowed to work her own
will and her own fancies into the threads
of silk and pieces of linen or satin cleft
over"
n a boys will be the winds will, what
shall be said of a girls? Is it light,
ephemeral, like the sea foam? Or strong
er, like bindweed in gardens? Or firm,
and brave, and shining, like the marble
that makes the coping stone of palaces?
know not.
Milly cared little for the vehicles that
sometimes went rumbling down her
street, nor for the sad looking, poorly
dressed pedestrians who were the only
frequenters OF that neighborhood, nor for
the loud voiced venders of cheap goods
in barrows,. 1t was the corner of gray
ENTHUSIASTICALLY pallid blue-which
she liked, and which (by squeezing well
in betwixt heavy table and the window
sill and craning her neck painfully she
could see and greatly enjoy, in contrast
to the dingy atmosphere of her lodging.
But what she loved best of all to gaze
on from her window was the shop ,ppo-
site-a shop SO glorious, SO lovely, 30
comforting and yet heart stirring that
the child could never be satiated with
looking and wondering at it.
A flower shop it was. What are flow
era made Of and how do they come? ask
the Londoners. Hew are they gathered
and brought together In their infinite
beauty Of tone and color, in their brill
fancy and freshness, in their tenderness
and sweetness? Flowers in pots, flowers
in punches, flowers in sprays, struggling
groups Of flowers, and stray single
blooms-all these filed and decked the
window panes of the shop opposite; all
these gladdened the eager beating heart
Of the little lame embroideress. 1t mat
tered not, when her eyes were delighted
with this dream Of fairy color, that she
was lame; nor did she remember her
many sorrows when, with hot trem-
bling hands, she threaded her needle and
piled her loveliest silks, glancing up now
and then to gain from beyond the narrow
street q new draught from her source Of
inspiration. Fast few her fingers, fast
grew the flowers beneath her touch;
like, yet not like, the originals; pretty,
Perchapcei yet disappointingly different
to expectation, thought the little artist,
who realized without knowledge of the
why or wherefore) this failure of
great intention.
For she wanted to copy nature. Nay,
who that has once seen nature can be
readily content with a counterfeit?
Every now and then, at sparse inter
walls Of time when she was thoroughly
disheartened and disguised with her own
handiwork. Milly would fetch her old
hat and cape out of the eupboard-her
cupboard where she kept everything,
from a piece of dry bread to an empty
dress herself laboriously and crawl over
to the opposite side Of the street and
stand there, her face pressed against the
panes OF the flower shop window till she
could stand upright no more. If the
weather was cold her slender form shiv-
cred under the threadbare black cape,
her face grew more pinched and blue
than before, but she held her place brave
iy, studying the form, the "make" of the
flowers till she knew them so well that
che could shut her eyes and reproduce
them on that wonderful canvas which
we all possess as free gift to paint our
beautiful visions upon-the clear white
page of our own mindsA
There was one thing that troubled her,
the flowers died so quickly. Milly had
neither time nor strength to pay frequent
visits to the flower store, and conse-
quently never might she hope to see her
favorites quite close second time. She
studied them, she loved them, she
strained her eyes to see them. Good.
But few days later they were gone
from their accustomed places, and
Others, new comers-new, graceful, fairy
things-were displayed where the old
friends had slowly dropped or had been
hastily removed. That was the way of
the world, doubtless, but there are some
people who never get used to the ways
Of the world. Milly was haply one of
these.
She had one friend-though should
rather say one acquaintance, for he was
scarcely more-and that was the little
crossing sweeper, the poor boy Jim.
Their misfortunes were bond between
them, perhaps; they were both crippled,
though slightly. from infancy. He was
humpbacked; she was lame. He was
swift Of foot and Of eye and could pilot
her dexterously over the muddy way,
safe from horses feet or splash of wheels;
she, the girl, was stronger of hand,
brighter Of face and Of courage. She
had more than once taken the bosom
from Jim's hand and swept away the
mud for pedestrians blithely and cheerily,
20 that she earned more coppers for him
in ten minutes than he knew how to
gain in weary mornings work. His
hands were 80 weak and delicate; hers,
used to activity, were positively muscu-
lar by contrast.
There was one drawback-he never
seemed to comprehend about the flow
ers. He would stand on one leg by the
brilliant shop window staring piteously,
taking of his ragged cap and putting it
on again with gesture Of perplexity,
scratching his head sometimes for greater
doubt.
You see, JIM" Milly whispered to