Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1893-04-03

sticky moisture of
the salt air penetrated to the marrow of
the bones, and made one feel uncom-
fortably warm and surly.
1t was midsummer, and the humidity
In the air made the heat less endurable.
John Scollard threw open his light over
coat and tried to take advantage of every
breath of cooling air. He was walking
leisurely toward the steamboat dock,
thinking, meanwhile, of the change in
the atmosphere which he would expert
ence when he reached the hotel down by
the sea.
"Evenin' papers, sir, only cent" a
newsboy shouted in an appealing voice,
showing the sheet before the bankers
eyes.
He pushed by without speaking. Near
the crossing he put his foot in an inch of
mud, and drew back just in time to
avoid being run over. Muttering words
of anger against the careless driver, and
inwardly cursing the muddy streets, he
glanced ruefully down at his soiled
shoes.
"The other side of the street, sir, is
cleaner" sweet voice said close to him,
sand you will not get so muddy"
1t was only the flower girl--no, wo-
man, who had kept her position on the
street corner in spite of the rain. Her
sweet violets, red roses, and early tulips
were wet with the mists, but they en-,
joyed the ducking and appeared more
attractive than usual.
ethan you," Mr.. Scollard said.
He turned around to take the advice
of the woman. He walked a few steps
and then halted. He seldom bought
flowers. He had no one to give them
to and he was not particularly fond of
them himself, But an act of kindness
deserves some compensation.
"Give me some of your fiowers-the
prettiest ones you have, he said he, feel.
ing in his pocket for bill.
"Violets, roses, or tulips, sir2"
"oh, anything-Pm not particular, u
he answered quickly.
The vender of flowers was used to her
work. She understood human nature.
In few moments she had deftly put to-
gether pretty bouquet of flowers, and
handed them to the stranger. The mar
threw down a dollar bill aud started tc
walk away.
"Your change, sir" the flower woman
interrupted in the same well-modulatec
voice.
"Never mind"
He stopped. One lock at the sweet
face convinced him that he was not deal
ing with subject for charity. He ex.
tended his hand and looked admiringly
into the face.
"seventy five cents" she said, drop.
ping three quarters into his gloved hand.
The expression of face will some
times recall suddenly the past of one'
life. John Scollard felt that he wa.
walking in dream as he continued hi
journey toward the boat. That facC
struck a keynote in his life, long sine
untouched. He had seen many flower
women before, but he had never carec
about inspecting them. They wer
strangers to him, and they were gener
ally unattractive. Their flowers wer
often pretty, but the fingers which
handled them were hard. and coarse.
But that night he dreamed of othe
scenes. On the front piazza of the hotel
overlooking the wild surf, he recalle,
his past life. No man could be NOR
thankful for his lot in life. He had sue
ceeded beyond his widest expectations
and at the age of forty five he was i
possession of an immense fortune an
reputable business standing. His lf
had been well ordered and rational from
the beginning.
His troubles had been few, and the
were chiefly negative ones. He had fev
friends and no relatives. He met thos
in his business life who professed to b
his friends, but he knew that it was a
from policy's sake. Social life had nev,
attracted him-at least not since his ear
manhood.
His one great misfortune had bet
commonplace, such as happens to mar
in life, but the sting of it had clung (
him these many years. 1t had been
simple lovers quarrel, followed by SCI
aration and jealous rage. He felt bitter
toward Jennie Hawley at the time, an
when he learned of her marriage a ye
or two later, it turned him from Il
world and all its pleasantest associ
tions. He wrapped himself up in bus
ness, and turned everything into golc
The stocks which he handled we're su
to advance in value. and he had be-