The Opelousas courier., 1900-04-07
But the friend with whom she was

But the friend with whom she was
to board waited for her and her work
was ready.
She had held the May flowers all
night in her hot, feverish hand and
their delicate seashell tints were just
as fresh, their subtle and delicious
fragrance as grateful as though they
had been taken but an hour before
from their bed of fallen forest leaves.
This seemed like magic to Louise,
but it was only the hardy nature OF
the little woodland blossom, that will
keep blooming for days under the
most adverse circumstances.
Summer frightened and faded.
Winter brought its manifold discom-
forts and few joys, as it invariably
does In the city, and Louise only
heard form home by way Of Esther's
brief and formal letters. Never a
word of Professor Frank. Stubborn
ness and resentment had fed away to-
gether, and Louise '1onged for the
touch of a vanished hand" and the
sound of a voice that had spoken with
gentle, encouraging faith when she
most needed assistance.
"He never gave me an impatient
word OF look" she said to herself.
"And if I was slow to learn, or
awkward at my work, he never told
me of it." She was so lonely in the
great city that she even forgave her.
self for thoughts she would never dare
indulge in at home. And so the spring
came and found her working reso-
lutely and patiently, but, OH, 80 home
sick!
It was Saturday, late in April, warm
and wearisome.
She had been looking at a collection
of plants on the street corner away
down town. "Pansies fer thought"
she said half aloud and, turning away
with a sigh, she saw-surely she
could not be mistaken, there was Pro-
fessor Frank just entering o public
house with a lady on his arm little
lady, neatly dressed and closely yelled.
She tried not to notice them; she
went back to the dingy Office and bent
over her work; the ceaseless noise of
machinery bewildered her aching head
and, in spite of all effort, the tears
would fall on the fair, white block
and mar her work. She was glad to
go home early-glad to escape from
the treadmill Of toll and think of her
own sad and bitter thoughts. Blinded
and cropping. she reached her door and
stumbled over a box left by a trim
little messenger boy. In the shad-
owy light she opened it and the poor
little room was glorifed, and life itself
grew all at once blessing and a boon.
The fragrance of tea roses and hello
tropes foated up like incense. and
through it all the sweet, penetrating
odor Of May flowers.
Then Louise sat down on. the dusty
carpet and Rugged the box in her arms
and cried and cried.
She had not known before how
homesick she was. How the weari-
some lines of brick and brownstone
had made her brain dizzy and her
ucATL SiCh. dON SUI 2ouSeu AoT ING
oldtime brightness, for a glimpse of
the greeting woods and felds-for
home!
When she had grown calmer she
found a note among the flowers, and
was scarcely surprised to read:
81 have found you at Inst. Why
do you hide away from me? I shall
call at eight this evening. Have you
welcome for your old friend and
teacher"
She forgot all possible changes that
the year might have wrought-forgot
the little lady down town, until he
said:
Il brought my mother on, and you
must return with us tomorrow"
Louise had demonstrated the fact
that she could earn her own living, but
it is a thousand times pleasanter to
have a home, and the wee bit frock
she hid away with a conscious blush
is the most satisfactory piece of de-
signing she has ever yet done yet.