The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1900-04-12
: The Little Drug Store


feel it will be, sweetheart though a
poor one"
"How can you call it poor, when it
has happiness in it, and love?" The
girl linked her fingers over his arm,
and laughed up into his face. Then
her smiling eyes swept over the
meager courtyard, over the gaunt
pump, and glazing white fence, with
its high green gate; over the four bare
windows set in the housewan.
eve must have flowers" she decid-
ed, brightly, authoritatively. 'You
shall dig the ground and shall plant
them" said this new Eve, looking
with eager, shining eyes into the face
of her Adam.
There were no flowers now; only
one poor, struggling rosevine, and
that had nothing but leaves.
The girl touched it tenderly. "See,
Richard, this will be lovely trained
over our window. You must make a
trellis for it."
"Now, my lady? At once? Must I
get the saw and hammer this minute
and set to work?"
mo, no; you foolish boy" she
laughed. you must show me, now,
the rest of my kingdom"
AS a shutter creaked warily, the
man glanced up with an amused
smile.
Look, sweetheart" pointing to the
round, freckled face peering bashful-
ly down on them. There is one of
the most loyal of your majesty's new
subjects, Miss Katie O'Hara, daughter
of my old landlady, and now your own
maid of honor for scrubbing and so
forth"
The young wife's eyes smiled up in
to the Irish gray ones, so full of won
dering admiration, and with that
smile won Katie's heart forever.
Inthe days that followed that home
coming they were carelessIy. unreason-
ably happy, like two children playing
at housekeeping, He taSght her how
to make coffee and golden-brown grid
die cakes, and together, with happy
laughter, they washed up the heavy
cups and saucers and plated spoons.
while Katie looked up from her scrub
bling with wondering eyes. According
to katie's philosophy, a gentleman
could not touch his hand to woman's
work, and yet Mr.. Richard was surely
a gentleman. The young wife strove
with all her dainty might to introduce
the spirit of beauty into the bare lit
tie shop. From gilt paper she cut
grape-leaf labels for the tall glass jars.
and lined the little movable showcase
with red velvet paper, taking up one
whole afternoon to arrange artistical-
ly its stock of hair brushes and fancy
soaps.
For the first time in her life. she
cut and fashioned her own gowns, and
very "fearfully and wonderfully" were
some of them made. The sleeves were
always loose where they should have
been tight, and tight where they
should have been loose, and the collars
refused to "set," but Richard thought
them beautiful. One dress, a little
print wrapper with forget-me-nots as
blue as her eyes. he especially loved.
Once the girl-wife, moving about her
work, saw her husbands eyes fixed on
her with wistful tenderness, and when
she asked what troubled him he re-
preached himself for taking her from
her easy, care-free life to toll in the
dust beside him.
One cloud dimmed their sunshine.
Her fathers heart was bitter against
her for marrying the poor druggist.
Why should she? Had not he. her
father, surrounded her with all that
she could reasonably wish for? But,
though its owner knew it not, when
the rich mans home had been sur
rendered to the fashionable furnisher
one little item had been forgotten.
The hangings and furniture We're all
faultlessly appointed, but the furnish
ing artist" had forgotten to hang
the 'banner of love" in the brokers'
palace. 1t was but trifing omission
no one but the home daughter, with
her lonely, love-hungry heart, was
conscious of it-but when, one day,
love came to her door, the woman
found it outweighed all beauty and
all wealth, and, without a moments
misgiving, took her place at the poor
mans side.
A year passed, and spring came
again.
The rosevine had climbed to the top
of the rough trellis, and pearly-white
blossom, its first, swayed at the tip of
one long branch-a flower not purer,
not sweeter, than the human flower
that had blossomed in the little home
To crown Richards and Marion's quiet
happiness, there had come to them
that sweetest and most sacred of all
Gods gifts-a little child.
But with Marion's joy there slowly
mingled a wistful pain, for the weak
baby fingers led her thoughts back to
her father. Day after day. as she felt
the pressure of her baby's head against
her shoulder, day after day as the
mother-yearning grew stronger in her
heart, she grew more wistful for some
forgiving word. True, he had all her
life been cold and uploving, but per-
haps he had cherished her in secret, as
she cherished this little one of hers.
How could one help loving ones own