Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1891-12-16
CHRYSANTEEA.


other flowers share.
ehe lived In brown farm house
among the Massachusetts hills with
her old father Had she bloomed SO
late In his life to give some color and
poetry to the autumn OF his days, az
the chrysanthemum blows only to
light the fall of the dying leavesP 1t
must have been so, for he was we'll in
to the sixties, while she was barely
sixteen.
Years ago her mother had died, a
frail, lovely creature, who would have
given that other young life the joy and
love 1t needed so; but the child grew
without it, a hardy, cheerful little
thing, though not without a certain
wistfulness at times in her great deep
blue eyes so like purple flower. Old
Rachel, her fathers housekeeper and
her own faithful nurse. used to look AT
her with wet eyes and shake her head.
ut amt natural. She goes on sing
ing and laughing as happy as lark
oil day; but what's to make her happy,
say IP It amt her father, nor yet me.
tho 1 do love her, the dear and she
ain't got no mother no sister, no
brother, nor vet no lover, so what's to
make her happy? 1t amt natural" she
insisted, as a blithe voice rose above
the olstter of the dishpans as Rachel
hustled around the kitchen.
What makes you so happy. lamb?"
cried the old lady out through the open
window.
"Oh, Rachael, I've got such lovely
lot OF chrysanthemums; come out and
see; oh, look, look!'
''Its them flowers that mako her
happy" muttered the old servant, as
she made her way through the kitchen
garden.
well, to be sure, Chriss, dear,
them do beat all Oh, them is hand
somer'
Aren't they just lovely? See the
great golden ones and the purple; those
sre my favorites. and this cherry and
white. and these pure white, too, those
are for mother" she said, lowering
her voice little; they are tho only
oDes I shall pick Rachael, aren't they
lovelyP"
But Rachael only shook her head
md went into the house.
To think she loves them flowers so;
u amt natural, it amt; if it was a
kitten now or dog l wouldn't wonder
20, but lot of clinging asters. it amt
natural"
Natural or not, Chriss was very hap
py. She hun 2 over her newly bloom
Ing pets nearly all the morning. then
= sudden cloud came over her face.
She looked up with a long sigh and
turned to the back OF the house, where
Gwo deep windows marked her fathers
study.
Il wonder now IL I dare tell him
about them, he does hate so to be dis
turbed; but oh! / want him to see
those purple ones so much"
With one fond look at her glowing
bed she went in at the door. With
hesitating step she passed along the
broad. old-fashiOned hall and raped
hmidly at the Oafen door. Not ex-
pecting any response she went in and
sighed as she saw the gray, bent head
poring over an old book. A wood fire
Imoldered on the hearth She knelt
down and blew the embers, looking up
now and then with a smile.
There, there. let it alone, child; it
Is burning very we'll"
"Oh. father, father"
well, what nowP
Father. it's just lovely out to-day
so warm and so sunny; and, father.
my flowers are in bloom"
Your flowers-oh, the chrysan-
themum bed, heyP Well, that's good"
Father, won't you come and look at
Themp dor very wistfully.
Come out? Not |. I've got some
thing better to do than to look at a lot
Of posies. There, run along, child;
now do"
She went very slowly and softly out
Of the room. closing the door gently
behind her, but her heart was null
Her song was silent now, and as she
passed the kitchen window she did not
look up and nod as usual.
She went quietly out to the hot
house and. selecting a small trowel,
knelt down beside the white chrysan-
themums and began loosening the roots
with tender, patient hands
she would have come to look. she
nurmured as she glanced off to where
tho white shaft of her mothers tomb
arose.
''She would have understood; per-
hAps she will understand now if say
. little prayer"
Two hot tears fell on the pure bios
soms as she gathered them up in her
apron; but they were not bitter tears,
she was too young for that She |
walked quickly across the fields that |
separated the burying ground from the |
house, and soon was by her mothers |
grave. The field lark was chirping, |
the goldenrod had brushed her cheeks |
rs she passed, her heart was lighter, |
and she sang under her breata a sweet, |
old-fashioned hymn.
AT last the flowers were planted and |
she turned to 60.
A young man with q sketch book !
ander his arm stood aside to let her |
pass. She looked up in time to see
him remove his hat, and encountered a |
pair OF dark brown eyes. She colored. |
and went on with quichened steps, |
conscious of her soiled apron and |
sarth-begrimed fingers.
He stood looking after her. still |
with his head barred. He was an |
artist; the sight of the young girl |
knesling by the grave had appealed 70 !
his senses
He had seen the monument fro m a |
distance and had come to inspect it, |