Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1898-03-05


as he cut of the three finest clover
heads and tied them together; hut he
cried ont "Pshaw!' when he grasped
his pen to write and wrote firmly
enough the words: "Weae these for
me, please. John Powell"
He had never before written any.
thing like that to girl. A strange,
pleasurable emotion took possession
of him as he wrapped the note about
the stems of the clover. heals and
carefully secured message aad bios
sens under the wing of Snowdrop.
Half an hour later he caused Mrs.
Clark to smile at him upon the staii
when he asked her if she would take
him that evening to call upon Miss
Rosie.
'To be sure," said the delighted
landlady. You young men, you
ought to go to see the girls more than
you do; the girls want some pleasure,
too, after the days work; but I tell
Miss Rosie she works all the time, in
the store and at home, too" -
All the complacency had deserted
John Powell as he turned his back
upon his smiling landlady and walked
away from his lodging'house in the
direction opposite to the store. He
wanted to think. Certainly he could
have no objection to marrying girl
who worked in store; moreover, a
girl who worked both in a store and at
home in order to keep her mother
comfortable; but there was grent
bitterness upon him. He had always
considered himself just man; yet he
may, in his thoughts, Lave wronged
lie girl who worked patiently day by
day at the ribbon counter in the store
of Jones e. Cashall. What right had
he to determine that girl who worked
in store would not possess the quail
ties suitable TO make home? How
did he know that this girl who was
never late at the store was not also a
treasure in her home? How did he
know that she, also, did not support a
mother? He had called her extrava-
CANT. Perhaps she fashioned her own
hats and her own dresses! They
would be beautiful and delicate If
she had fashioned them. What
pleasant, honest eyes the girl
had. what a true, sweet
face! She was so little aud white;
surely she must have q mother; that
was why she never missed a day at
the store, never complained of head
ache. How proud her mother must
be of her! He had reached one of
the city parks, aud he sat down upon
u bench and brought his hands to-
gether, acknowl edging tiercely in his
heart that he was man who was in
love with two girls, most detestable
being. He felt, indeed, as if he were
false to the girl whom he had known
personally for the past three years.
He had talked to her often; he had
let her know that he liked to talk to
her. Did she, in turn, like to talk to
him? He groaned sudibly. To Miss
Rosie he had never spoken, but he
had sent her written messages. He
had seen Miss Rosie's written "Thank
you," but he had heard the other
girls. What sweet musical voice
she had! He had been unfair to the
little girl behind the counter. He had
fallen in love with Miss Rosie's home
and Miss Rosie's pigeons before he
ever thought of Miss Rosie herself;
but he had never made himself &C.
quainted with the other girls home.
Suppose he had done so? Suppose
he had found it measer and plain;
suppose it had been bare room in q
lodging-house and that she had got
her meals several blocks away at q
dining-room. A mist swept before
his eyes. He would like to have
taken her away from it; girl with o
face like that, with gentle voice like
that, with such grit and industry,
ought to be given the chance to make
true home.
The poor fellow started and stared
into vacancy. He had sent valen-
tine to the wrong girl. He had asked
her to wear the red clover-heads.
There was no going back after that.
In the evening his landlady would
accompany him to the home in the
third story of that corner house, and
he would make his best bow, and
after that it would all be plain sailing
John Powell took out his watch and
looked at it and rose hurriedly, For
the first time during his engagement
at the store he would be late. He
laughed in q light-hearted way. He
had never known Miss Merriman to be
late.
He was twenty minutes behind
time on this morning of the settling
of his fate-twenty minutes by the
store clock. He was about to pass the
ribbon counter without his customary
"Good morning." for he felt as if he
could not meet Miss Merriman's
smiling eyes. She must know that
he had liked to talk to her. What
would she think when she learned
tEat he was going to be married?
Then there came to him sort of pity
for the other girl and feeling that
he was false to her as we'll, and he
turned toward the ribbon counter and
bowed. Then suddenly, like flash,
a great pleasure came into his face
and he held out his hand, saying a
name so low that no one heard except
tine girl who blushed and smiled as he
took her little fingers into his clasp. On
Miss Merriman's bosom, pinned with
bow Of pink ribbon. were the three
clover heads. John Powell was never
SO glad of anything in all his life
New York Independent
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